


Choices and Clichés

by Elayna



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-01
Updated: 2006-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:43:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elayna/pseuds/Elayna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aliens made them do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One Like A Bad Sci-Fi Porn Film

John thought the situation would have been funny in a bad sci-fi porn movie kinda way, if Teyla hadn't looked as serious as always. The woman had serious down to a fine art, with her level gaze and unsmiling mouth. Rodney, of course, was the first one to offer an opinion. A highly agitated vocal opinion.

"They want what? Oh, no, no way. You must have misunderstood. See, this is why we should all be involved in these negotiations."

Teyla noticeably bridled at Rodney's accusation of her incompetence, and John leaped into the conversation before they got sidetracked. "Can you give more detail?"

"No, Major. They merely said that they wished to observe our normal practices."

Accustomed to making command decisions, John considered the situation quickly. No weapons, no supplies, no sign of sympathizers among the aliens, no way to escape and a long return trip scouting around the treacherous marshes to the puddle jumper, when they could easily be recaptured ... "Fine. McKay and I'll do it. Tell them we need a comfortable surface and we're ready any time they are."

The looks of disbelief on the faces around him were almost worth this whole fiasco. Of course, he'd expected Rodney to be shocked, but not quite so open-mouthed in his disbelief that he was momentarily struck dumb. And Ford may occasionally disagree with his choices, but Ford was a good little soldier who normally hid that fact. Teyla just looked befuddled. "I thought heterosexuality was the norm among your people?"

"Homosexuality's pretty normal too," John said casually, as if announcing that he was ignoring one of the highest military precepts wasn't any kind of a supreme concern for him.

"Major ... " Ford dared to put a hand on his shoulder. "Major ... you don't have to do this. I can ... "

"Look, people," John sighed, to make sure he had their attention. Soldiers responded well to commands, but he'd learned that a quiet kind of exasperation was more effective when civilians were involved. "It's the logical choice. They know Teyla isn't one of our people, so she doesn't really count. Besides, anyone carrying a handy condom?" He looked at Ford and Rodney, who both seemed too much in shock to answer. "I'd rather not deal with the problem of a baby, if you don't mind." He squeezed Ford's shoulder in return. "And if there is going to be any kind of fall-out from this, I want to keep military involvement limited. There's no reason to risk your career."

"Oh so thank you, I'm the one who won't suffer any kind of consequence, is that what you're saying? Yes, let's have Rodney be the last choice."

"Would you rather have been the first choice?"

"No! I would rather not do it at all. I am accustomed to exhibiting my brilliance, not my sex life."

Ford and Teyla stayed quiet, realizing that this conversation needed to happen between John and Rodney. John appreciated the way they were obviously biting their tongues not to interfere, even as he gave command mode a try. "Rodney, it needs to happen, it needs to happen soon, and then we need to get the hell off this planet. Do you understand?"

"I wasn't the one who wanted to drag us through this hell hole in the first place. I wanted to turn back when we hit the swamp. But did anyone listen to me?" Rodney glared at Teyla, who stared back steadily. "I don't see why I have to suffer the consequences."

"Fine, will it make you happier if you're on top?" This experience was almost one that John could cherish, purely for the number of times he'd made Rodney gape in dumbfounded amazement. Not that it took long for the talkative scientist to recover his voice.

"I don't see why we assume you should be on top, even if such a thing was going to happen."

"It's agreed then. We'll go to the ceremonial mating chamber or wherever this is going to happen, and I'll give you a blowjob. You can have a nice orgasm and we can leave. Or is an orgasm too much consequence for you to save your comrades' lives?"

Yep, not only could he make Rodney's mouth hang open, he could finally stop more words coming out. Maybe there was an advantage in being stuck in a bad sci-fi porn plot.

~~~~

The ceremonial mating chamber, or whatever this place was called, wasn't as bad as John might have guessed. For one thing, they were shown in from the back and the audience was darkened, so other than the noises of people breathing, he couldn't tell how many were watching him and Rodney. Hopefully it was only a few voyeuristic elders and not the entire village. They stood in the light of two torches, on a carpet of skins and waited for a sign, which didn't seem to be forthcoming.

"Well, Major, they appear to be letting us run this show. I believe you were going to drop to your knees and get this done with?"

Rodney's snarkiness was back in full force, which was good. A mission never seemed right if Rodney wasn't whining and making scathing comments. "Oh, I think we'll need to give them a bit of a show, don't we? We don't want them to feel shortchanged." John turned to face Rodney, and slipped his arms around his waist, leaning forward, forcing Rodney to arch back.

And then John Sheppard kissed Rodney McKay, something that he'd never imagined in his wildest dreams would ever happen. It felt a little odd, kissing a man, but not too bad. A mouth was a mouth, after all. Tongue and teeth and lips. And Rodney was taller than many of the women he'd dated, so he didn't feel like he'd throw out his back from stooping. Rodney's aftershave was a nice scent, not one John recognized, but spicy and pleasant, not cloying and sweet like many women's perfume. True, when the kiss got a little harder and their faces moved, brushing against each other as their mouths repositioned, John felt the light scratch of Rodney's stubble, something he hadn't experienced.

Stubble was ... kinda sexy really. John rubbed his cheek against Rodney's another time, feeling it some more. Women always complained about stubble as being scratchy but really, stubble was just ... another interesting texture, and John liked textures. It was too bad that they hadn't taken off their boots. John was sure that the skins on the floor would feel fantastic on the soles of his feet.

"Major, what are you doing?" Rodney hissed.

"Feeling your stubble," John answered honestly, not caring to dissemble. Ford and Teyla had been kept in the prison cell, so there wasn't anyone to see this, at least no one who was going to report gory details. Rodney was unlikely to ever acknowledge that this embarrassing event had happened, much less spread it around Atlantis that John Sheppard enjoyed the feel of beard stubble.

"Why?"

"I'm curious. Don't you believe in scientific exploration?" He took Rodney's lips again, pleased that Rodney was a good kisser. Not the most amazing one-kiss-will-make-you-swoon kinda kisser, but still ... warm, sincere, sexy. Like John thought the scientist might actually be, if his massively insecure ego didn't overcompensate so much by forcing him to be arrogant and thoughtless.

He surrendered Rodney's lips, exchanging them for Rodney's neck, nipping at his Adam's apple, curious if Rodney could find some reason to justify not being scientific.

"Scientific exploration, giving the aliens the show they want ... you have quite a repertoire of excuses, don't you, Major?"

Curling his hands into the cotton weave of Rodney's t-shirt, John pulled it off and over Rodney's head. "Excuses?" he asked, before devoting his attentions to Rodney's chest.

"You didn't say there would be this much nakedness!"

"Sorry," John said lazily, yanking off his own shirt. "There, we're even." Rodney's chest wasn't a sculpted work of art. He was a man who worked in his lab, not at the weight machines. But it was interesting, to feel the flat chest, the hard little nipples, the dusting of hair. John spread his hands wide over Rodney's chest, touching everywhere, sliding his hands down to Rodney's belly. There was a gently rounded paunch, another sign of a man who worked too much, cared too much for his job, to worry about proper nutrition when he was absorbed in a problem, grabbing whatever was convenient to keep his blood levels balanced.

"I don't care if we're even! This was supposed to be ... suck, tuck and go!"

John laughed and dropped to his knees. "Suck, tuck and go?" Grinning up at Rodney, he undid the scientist's belt, then the button on the waistband, and finally inched the zipper slowly down, surprised that he wasn't nervous. This was okay, really, making love to a man. Interesting and different, and John liked interesting and different. He'd been in the military too long, where conformity was the norm, not to appreciate the chance to experience the unusual.

"You know what I mean."

"Maybe," John teased, tugging Rodney's trousers and briefs down to mid-thigh, exposing his genitals. Rodney's dick wasn't as big as his ego, but it was nicely sized and more eager than John would have expected from Rodney's hissing protestations. For all of Rodney's nervous distraction, his body was ready and willing.

The sight of Rodney's dick pointing toward his face gave John a momentary pause. Promising to give a blowjob while trapped in a cave was one thing; having reached the point of needing to open wide and take it in was something else. Something more and a little intimidating.

Still, how difficult could it be? He knew the experience well from the other side, and even a geek like Rodney couldn't be too different from him in the most important respects. Just do what he liked, make Rodney groan and spurt, and they'd be escorted out. There was a drop of precum on the tip, and he licked at it, experimentally. Bittersweet, just like he'd always heard. He rolled his tongue around the head, feeling the foreskin shift under his tongue, contemplating how to proceed, surprised to hear Rodney give a shaky noise between a moan and a groan at the subtle touch.

Perhaps a nice hard sucking on the tip to start. He always liked sucking. He followed thought with deed, taking the head fully in his mouth, pretending Rodney was a gobstopper and he wanted the center. He glanced up, noting Rodney was showing all the desired effects, his skin flushed, his breathing rapid. Only Rodney was talking too, much more than John ever did. Which only made sense really, Rodney being the chatterbox of all Atlantis. "Christ ... oh Christ ... can't believe ... that feels so good ..." The words weren't as articulate as Rodney's usual rampages, but expressive nonetheless in John's opinion.

Pleased with the good start, John bobbed his head forward, taking Rodney's dick a little further, still sucking hard but alternating with stroking his tongue around the length. John always liked tongue action, and Rodney clearly did too, his litany of enthusiasm continuing unabated. "Oh god ... so good ... there. Major ... John ..."

Smiling to himself, John flicked his teeth on Rodney's dick, the tiniest little touch to see what reaction he would provoke. Rodney bounced on his feet like a wind-up toy, his dick jerking in John's mouth. "Christ! That hurt! Okay in a good way. Don't do that again. No, I mean yes, I mean ..."

John grabbed Rodney's hips as he jerked, making sure Rodney didn't gag him. He released Rodney long enough to smirk, "Your wish is my command," before taking him back in, using it all, a fierce sucking with his whole mouth, a warm slathering with his tongue, the unexpected but quick snip of his teeth, drawing Rodney deeper and further as he became accustomed to the sensation of having the fullness in his mouth.

"I'm on top ... you said that ... who knew you could do this ... "

Curious to see what would push Rodney over the edge, John brought his hands into the action, sliding them from Rodney's hips to his dick, stroking the length that wasn't covered by his mouth, and finding the heavy sac, rolling it with his fingers and giving it a few sharp tugs. To John's gratification, that did the trick, Rodney interrupting his babbling to give a yowl, jerking himself out of John's mouth and falling to his knees, grabbing his own dick and giving it a swift stroke before his come splattered on the animal skins.

Rodney lowered his head, his whole body shaking. "People just watched that. I can't believe people watched that."

It hit John that this situation was no longer just a bizarre bad sci-fi porn film, a freaky fiasco to escape from with lives intact and dignity battered. It was Rodney, a proud, arrogant man, clearly disturbed to have been made to expose himself in the most intimate way before strangers. The mixture of emotion John felt at seeing Rodney so vulnerable surprised him, both a rush of pride that his fumbling first attempt had such a devastating impact on Rodney, mingled with embarrassment that he'd so trampled on Rodney's objections and coerced him into it with little thought beyond the more important impact on Ford and Teyla.

Dropping to his knees, John pulled Rodney into his arms, letting the scientist burrow his face into John's shoulder, hiding his emotions from their unseen audience. He stroked Rodney's short hair, felt his body's shuddering tremors. "You okay?"

"Can we go now?" The plaintive tone told John that Rodney was at the end of his rope.

John looked into the dark but no one seemed to be making any signal to release them, probably because John's own condition was unrelieved and way too apparent. "Just a moment." Curling his toes under him, he rose lithely to his feet, snapping open his uniform pants, yanking himself out, facing what he believed to be the front of the audience. Let the voyeurs get their fill so they could get out of here. Setting up a punishing pace, he stroked himself, remembering Rodney's babbled words, the taste of him, the feel of him in John's mouth. His come landed on top of Rodney's, the white splatters indistinguishable from each other, shining wetly on the brown fur.

Without asking permission, he buttoned himself up and found their t-shirts, dressing swiftly as Rodney did the same. "We want our guns and equipment now," he announced to the darkness. "We're leaving."

An individual stopped into the torchlight, the scout who'd first led them to his tribe. The scout clasped his hands in front of him and gave a choppy bow, before turning away. John and Rodney followed him. The bad sci-fi porn film was over.

~~~~

John found himself thinking only of their strange performance on the long tedious trek back to the puddle jumper, on the short hop back through the gate, during the cursory report they gave to Elizabeth, on the walk back to his quarters. He thought of Rodney, his dumbfounded amazement at John's half-flippant, half-commanding obedience to the aliens' demand, his incessant babble, his sudden, shocking vulnerability. The whole scene had been surreal and embarrassing, but rather hot and exciting too.

What would it be like to explore the part of himself that had enjoyed it all, that had enjoyed having Rodney dance to the tune he'd played with his mouth, to explore being with Rodney, in privacy, with no outside control? Rodney had let him run roughshod over his objections against exhibitionism ... what else might Rodney let him do?

Continuing such activity would be foolish beyond all sense. No one could know. No one would understand. Hell, he didn't understand where his thoughts were leading. Rodney was hardly his type. Sometimes John couldn't believe Rodney was anyone's type.

What had Rodney meant when he accused John of inventing excuses?

Rodney clearly was still thinking of it all too, which was rather surprising. John had expected Rodney to disappear to the lab and pretend this had never happened. But no, there was Rodney, dogging his footsteps through the corridors of Atlantis, mimicking John's report under his breath, "We had to show them some basic human practices and then we got to go, no big deal." Indignantly and much more loudly, Rodney added, "That was no big deal?"

"Would you rather I had told Elizabeth the truth?"

"Of course not! But I expected a little more ... appreciation to be displayed for my part in it. You made it sound like Teyla and Ford's role was just as important."

"Your part? You got sucked and tucked. How difficult was that? I did all the work."

"You did all the work? I was the one you manipulated in front of an alien race."

They'd reached Sheppard's room and he grabbed Rodney by the neck. "What's the real problem, Rodney, that it happened or that we both enjoyed it?" John hauled Rodney close, giving him a messy, long kiss, the kind of kiss he gave when he wanted to encourage his date toward the sack. Wide-eyed Rodney was definitely a look Sheppard was learning to appreciate. "If you ever want a repeat performance, let me know," John said casually, before opening the door and stepping into his quarters.

He headed toward his shower, needing to get rid of the sweat and the smell of the sex they'd shared, and take care of the erection that was beginning to form. He wondered how long Rodney would hold out, arrogant and proud and chaste, before succumbing to John's offer, when they would begin having random frantic moments of sex on alien planets, desperate and needing the release from the daily tension, and because it was fun and hot, just like a bad sci-fi porn film.

John Sheppard was realizing he could become rather fond of bad sci-fi porn films.


	2. The One With the Implausible Alien Technology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those sneaky aliens. They always leave weird technology lying around to be used and abused by our intrepid heroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to Cleito for the eagle-eyed beta.

Rodney had arrived at many conclusions in his life. His profession as a scientist required it. He'd made many brilliant ones, some stunningly genius ones, and a few, a very, very few, boneheaded embarrassing ones. But his latest conclusion was undoubtedly the scariest he'd ever reached. He, Doctor Rodney McKay, scientific savior of Atlantis, was being stalked by Major John Sheppard, the military hero and boy wonder.

The stalking seemed to have been cultivated by outside forces, when the two of them were forced into public sex by voyeuristic aliens. Rodney had expected that they would put the entire incident behind them, to completely forget the embarrassment, until John had grabbed him by the neck, kissed him hard, and offered a repeat performance. Since that night, John had been stalking Rodney, in a very casual, very laid-back, subtle way, a way that gave Rodney no ammunition to complain to Elizabeth. John just … looked at Rodney. Looked at his face, and flicked his eyes with those absurdly long lashes down to Rodney's crotch, and gave this little half-smile, like he was remembering when he'd made Rodney babble and yowl.

Rodney contemplated the piece of alien technology in front of him and wondered why John's stalking left him so unsettled. After all, he'd ignored many people in his life: anal bureaucrats, idiotic military drones, scientific naysayers. Rodney had learned that few people understood him, and that it was best to do what he knew was right. That way, things would get done and perhaps the idiots would learn the error of their ways. He should be able to dismiss John from his mind, like he'd dismissed so many others.

The problem was really two-fold. First, Rodney was a scientist. He liked to understand things. Physics, alien technology, the universe – they all had rules that could be deciphered and understood. He wanted John's actions to make sense. True, most people didn't make sense, but John had so far, in that military-but-not-incredibly-stupid-and-conformist-fashion that the best military people displayed.

Secondly, John was the acknowledged stud of Atlantis, behind his back if never to his face. Everyone adored him as a leader who was always on the front lines and never foolishly risked the safety of his troops. Any of the women would sleep with him. It made absolutely no sense that Elizabeth's go-to guy, would risk his career for … what? Sex with Rodney?

"Hey."

Rodney jumped and whirled, noting for not the first time how ridiculously quiet John could be. The major had mastered the art of stealth. "Don't startle me like that."

"Sorry," John said, but as he gave one of his little patented half-smiles, he didn't seem particularly repentant, more like a large cat with his paw on a mouse's tail. "We've got a mission."

"Look, we need to talk. About all this … " Rodney took the plunge, waving his hands, letting them fill the gap in his words. " … that's between us. I need to understand what's going on."

"What's going on?"

"You know what I mean."

John tilted his head. "You mean … " and John crossed the room, grabbed Rodney by the neck, and gave him one of those long messy kisses that made Rodney want a cold shower or John on his knees in front of him.

Struggling for breath, Rodney gasped, "Yes. I mean that."

"I thought that was evident."

"NO. It's not evident, or understandable, or comprehensible … it makes as little sense as teaching intelligent design at MIT."

"Fine, if you really need it explained to you, we'll talk when we get back. Mission first." With those words, John stalked out, leaving Rodney with tingling lips and the very pleasant view of his trim backside.

No sense. It all made no sense whatsoever.

~~~~

John settled himself at the controls of the puddle jumper, doing his normal pre-flight checks. He liked flying the puddle jumpers. Sure, they were kinda small, built for short hops, but they flew in space and they responded to his thoughts as well as his hands, making them responsive in a way that no human-made aircraft could ever match.

Teyla, Ford, and Rodney settled into the seats around him, Rodney babbling about whether the mission was a valid use of his incredibly important time. Not that Rodney had seemed to be doing anything in his lab. As far as John could tell, he'd been fully occupied in staring.

Rodney was rattled. He was very definitely rattled. It was kinda fun, really, in the midst of all the action and crises and last-minute saves and battling bad guys that life at Atlantis had become, to simply stare at Rodney and make him twitch. His responsiveness was rather like flying a puddle jumper, really: instant, easy, satisfying. Not that John thought Rodney would appreciate the comparison.

"My people find that this place makes them uneasy."

"It's just an ancient hunting lodge or something. I suppose it's not surprising that an ancient would want to get out of Atlantis occasionally for fresh air. Some people like that kind of thing." Even as Rodney dismissed the Athosians' concerns, he gave a little shudder. Rodney didn't appreciate fresh air.

"There is something more there. Something dangerous."

"Fine, fine, whatever. Let's go find out what has the farmers nervous."

Sometimes John had to wonder if Rodney deliberately provoked people, or if he was truly that insensitive. Not that Teyla was inclined to take offense easily. Rodney appeared to have no ability to get under her skin. Was it his imagination, or was Rodney being particularly offensive to Teyla more than normal lately? Was the scientist attracted to her? Certainly she was a beautiful woman, and that seemed exactly like a Rodney-move, irritate someone that he wanted and thought he couldn't have.

John adjusted flight controls and contemplated the possibility of Teyla and Rodney. Nope, wasn't going to happen, even if Rodney thought Teyla was hot. Though her beauty might fascinate him, Teyla wasn't intellectual enough to interest Rodney long-term, and Teyla would never desire a man who couldn't knock a Wraith unconscious with a few decisive blows. Living on Atlantis was toughening up Rodney, but not to a level that Teyla would instinctively seek in a lover or mate.

Rodney's toughness was actually beginning to bother John. He'd rattled Rodney plenty, made him babble and fidget, but Rodney hadn't succumbed, not as easily as John had expected after the whole 'forced sex before voyeuristic aliens' experience. Rodney complained incessantly, but he was stubborn and strong in his own geeky way.

Still … this should be an easy excursion. Rodney certainly seemed to think it was beneath his notice. Maybe John would finally get Rodney alone long enough to make him crack, to make him ask for a repeat performance. It would be nice to hear Rodney admit he needed him. In response to his thoughts, the puddle jumper surged ahead, speeding toward the mainland.

~~~~

The mainland's main problem, in Rodney's estimation, was that it was so incredibly natural, full of woods and fertile valleys and dry desserts, and all those environmental habitats that Rodney tried to avoid. Every single one of them had some type of nasty pest that invariably picked him to feast upon, or a plant that kicked up his allergies and made him sneeze.

Labs were so much nicer. Clean, comfortable, and filled with useful scientific equipment. Much better than nature. It was too bad that he couldn't stay on Atlantis and let the team bring him interesting finds of alien technology, except of course, he didn't trust any of them to recognize interesting finds from great ones or useless junk.

Teyla and one of the other Athosians led the way from the main Athosian settlement, through woods of majestic trees and lots of ferns and other small plants and across a few little springs, as Rodney swatted at bugs and tried to avoid getting branches in his face. John was close on his heels, Ford bringing up the point or the six or whatever the hell the military insisted on calling the last person. Rodney always ignored those instructions and stayed in the middle of the group on any excursion, realizing that the lead and end person were always the first to get picked off. His shoulders prickled, and he wondered whether it was in response to a creepy crawly under his shirt or John's stare. He decided to ignore both possibilities.

They finally reached a structure, about the size of a small cabin, and clearly Ancient in design. Rodney's spirits immediately improved. At least if it was just a hunting lodge for some Ancient nature freak, it was genuinely Ancient and apparently in good shape. "Sheppard," he called, not that he had to speak very loudly considering how closely the man was dogging his footsteps. John understood what he wanted and stepped around him to the door, putting his hand on the panel and thinking.

The door slid open smoothly, the perfect functioning of the Ancient technology undiminished by the centuries. Rodney started to step through, but John stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Me first," he said. For a second, they stood close, both in the doorway, John's hand resting on Rodney's shirt. Then Rodney jerked back, letting John take the lead.

Rodney waited in the front room of the dwelling as John did the military thing, as John was good at doing, prowling through the small place, rifle held ready in his hands. Ford and Teyla entered after John called that all was clear. The rooms resembled the living quarters on Atlantis, sleek surfaces and plain white furniture. "This is what makes your people nervous?" Rodney asked, skeptically.

"There are no other Ancient habitats on the mainland. There is something odd about this place."

"Rodney," John interrupted before the scientist could continue bickering with Teyla. "In here."

Rodney followed John's voice to the back of the dwelling, and into a room that had been sealed off. Not just a room … a lab. Lots of work surfaces covered with scientific equipment and Ancient gizmos that all of the other scientists at Atlantis would covet. "Now this is my kind of place," he said happily, ignoring Teyla as she stalked out.

~~~~

The only thing that could make life better at this moment of time would be a bottle of beer in his hand. A nice cold one. Brand didn't matter. John wasn't picky. Light, amber, dark … Just something tasty and relaxing, like it was Sunday afternoon at home and he had nothing more pressing to do then spend a few hours vegging.

Ford, Teyla and the other Athosian clearly had too much energy, prowling around the forest, talking about the different plants and what was edible or might make good dyes or building material or whatever. They were out of John's sight but he could hear their voices floating through the trees. Rodney had the most energy of all, bouncing periodically from the dwelling, chatting at the speed of light about the various devices the Ancient had been working on, and what they might do and whether any could serve a purpose for their current needs.

John … John sat on a boulder, leaning back enough that he could prop his shoulders on the dwelling, his rifle resting idly on his knee, and simply soaked in the peaceful air and the scent of a mature forest, trees and dirt and life. He rather thought Rodney would have preferred if John had chosen to sit in the lab, where he could admire Rodney's deductive genius at first hand, but being in the woods was too seductive. Besides, he was rather amused by how much Rodney resembled a hyperactive terrier as he bounced in and out with the latest toy.

"Here, put your hand in this." Rodney demanded, thrusting a piece of large black lump toward John's face.

John blinked, having missed Rodney's return. "What is it?"

"That's what I'm trying to determine. It's got a control panel on this side, but it's clearly not designed for both hands of the same person."

Looking closer, John could see that one of Rodney's was tucked into the long triangular shaped device while his other fussed over the control panel. He felt the bottom, identifying where Rodney thought he should put his hand in. "What if it does something bad?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I haven't even managed to turn it on. I just want to see how hands fit in it."

Unlooping his rifle from over his shoulder, John placed it carefully on the boulder, and slipped his hand in. The inside was grooved so his hand twisted as it went in. He ended up stepping closer to Rodney as their hands met in the middle, the device covering the outside of his hand and a few inches of his forearm. His fingertips touched Rodney's, but the length of his fingers and his palm met more of the black material. It was definitely designed for hands to fit in it, but not fully touch. "I should have made you give me a kiss."

That jerked Rodney out of his absorption with the controls. "What?"

"If I'm going to be sticking my hands into dangerous places for you, shouldn't I at least get a kiss for the effort?"

"This is hardly a dangerous place."

"That doesn't answer the question." And then John didn't wait for a response, because Rodney's lips were open, like they were waiting to be invaded, and John accepted the silent plea. Rodney's lips were motionless as John tasted them, but John could hear the rate of his breathing increase. John's fingers tingled to touch Rodney, to take Rodney's face into his hands … Christ, no, his fingers were tingling because they were hot. The interior of the device was warming up, rapidly.

John tried to jerk his hand out, but Rodney did too, at the same time, making the mistake of pulling backwards rather than down. John stumbled as Rodney yanked him toward him. "Down Rodney, pull down."

"It's hot!" Rodney yelled, before he fell backwards. John knew he would lose the battle to keep them on their feet, so he threw himself forwards and twisted, taking the brunt of the fall on himself, letting Rodney collapse onto his body, their hands still entwined in the device as they lost consciousness.

~~~~

John woke up, feeling disoriented. He was in the medical wing, which meant someone else with the Ancient gene had brought another puddle jumper to the mainland and flown them home. He vaguely remembered staggering out of the woods, leaning heavily on Ford, while Teyla and the other Athosian practically carried Rodney. Had he passed out again? He must have.

There was the taste of coffee in his mouth, and he licked his lips. Carson's worried face loomed over him. "You're awake then."

"I guess. Coffee?"

"You want coffee?"

"No. I taste coffee. Why do I taste coffee?"

Carson frowned. "I dinna know. It's an odd side effect."

"What happened?"

"You and Rodney put your hands in some form of Ancient technology. It made you pass out. Rodney's been awake for a while, but complaining of sleepiness." Carson's tone had an odd mixture of surprise and doubt, and John realized it was the first time that Rodney recovered faster than him. He sat up, and was struck by a sudden feeling of vertigo, like he was looking at two different places in the room at once and his eyes couldn't adjust. He swayed in the bed, feeling Carson grab his arms to steady him, hearing Rodney groan. The taste of coffee disappeared from his mouth as a cup shattered on the floor. Peering to the side, he saw Rodney in similarly bad shape, hunched over and holding his head in his hands, dark coffee staining the hospital bed where it had spilled as Rodney dropped the cup.

John wasn't sure what had just happened, but he could tell it was bad. Really, really bad.

~~~~

The conference room had never seemed so far away from medical. John concentrated on each footstep, thinking of nothing else. They could have stayed in their hospital beds for this discussion, but no … Rodney refused to appear that vulnerable in front of Zelenka. Not that Rodney admitted that rationale, but John was pretty certain that was Rodney's motivation for stubbornness.

John timed his steps to Rodney's, who, irritatingly enough, seemed less damaged by the alien device. True, Rodney had his moments where he paled and staggered, but he was bouncing back much faster than John. Keeping his motions in sync to Rodney's made the vertigo less obvious, though John wasn't sure why. He followed Rodney into the conference room and sat at the same time as he did, taking the chair next to him.

Ford, Teyla, and Elizabeth were already seated around the table. Carson and Zelenka were the last to walk in, and both appeared disconcerted to see the group at the briefing. Carson sat, his hands fidgeting on the table, but Zelenka stayed standing as he announced, "I think it best if discussed with only McKay and Major," his accent coming out even more strongly than normal.

Rodney snorted. "I'm sure everyone can hear your discovery. If it's even right."

Zelenka looked at Elizabeth, who gave him an encouraging look in return. "Fine," he snapped, glaring at Rodney. "It is a sex toy."

Rodney openly laughed this time. "You must be joking."

"I am not making joke. And am not wrong. I have studied device extensively, as well as others that were retrieved, and am convinced that was designed to share sexual sensation."

Now say six seashells on the shore three times fast, John thought distantly, watching Rodney's blood begin to boil. He waited for the scientist to erupt, and Rodney didn't let him down. "Sharing sensations? Vertigo? Yes, what a wonderful sensation to share. I think I'll have a little vertigo with my fellatio, thank you. Not."

"Device was designed for Ancients, not humans. Is probably why Major is more affected than you. He has Ancient gene."

"Well that makes a lot of sense, doesn't it? I'm sure the Ancients enjoyed nausea with their sex life." Rodney gestured with both his hands and his head as he tended to do when agitated, and John swallowed to keep the nausea at bay.

"Was designed to have impact on them, on *two*. Is only logical that imbalance occurred."

"Oh, I see, so now it's my fault that John is sicker than I am."

Zelenka directed his next words to Elizabeth, as if involving her would shut Rodney up. "I believe the device was a prototype. Perhaps never even fully tested. Carson agrees with me."

"Aye," Carson admitted. "I've reviewed Zelenka's findings, and I think he's right. It fits with what Rodney and John have been experiencing."

"Oh, in the what? Three or four hours you two have had while we were unconscious? Oh, pardon me, *plus* the two or three hours while we were conscious. And you came to this grand conclusion, that an Ancient sexual pervert left his toys lying around? Was this his way of relieving his tension while his race was losing the war with the Wraith?"

Zelenka's glare could have cut through Rodney like a laser beam, and even Carson looked offended at Rodney's bluntness. Elizabeth inserted a note of practicality into what was rapidly showing signs of becoming a major blowout between the scientists. "So, if this is true, how do we get rid of the effects? Will they wear off?"

"It is possible," Zelenka agreed, "But I would not recommend relying on that. I believe the sensations will not vanish until they have been physiologically purged out of their systems. They need to have sexual intercourse. Possibly a lot of it."

Ford snickered. The snicker was small but undeniable, particularly noticeable since he hadn't yet participated in the conversation.

"What," Rodney snapped. "You think no one will have sex with me?"

"I don't see why they can't have sex together again," Teyla said rationally. "Surely that would be the simplest solution, since neither of them has a mate." John winced internally, wondering if her innocence was a little too calculated. Maybe he should encourage Rodney to stop making cracks about farmers.

"Again?" said Elizabeth intently, pursuing the very word that John hoped she hadn't caught.

"It's a long story," John replied dismissively, rising to his feet.

"I'd like to hear it."

"I think Zelenka was right. I think this is information that Rodney and I should consider. In private."

"John."

Elizabeth had that annoying knack of expressing so much with just a word or two. She wanted to know what the hell had happened and why she hadn't been told, why she'd been left out of the loop when Ford and Teyla clearly knew. John tried her own tactic back, doing his very best to look earnest. "Elizabeth … please. Not now." He caught Rodney under the armpit.

"Very well. But later."

"Okay." Using one hand, he hoisted Rodney out of his chair, an act that almost sent him crashing to the floor, the sensation of standing and rising at the same time. He braced himself on the table to gain his balance back, then pushed Rodney toward the door. They passed around the still standing Zelenka, who watched them blankly, as if not quite comprehending that John was truly taking his advice to heart. Christ, scientists. Couldn't live without 'em, might have to fuck 'em.

Rodney sputtered as they staggered down the hallway, John's arm around his shoulders, not conceding one iota of possibility that Zelenka was right. Zelenka was a marginally decent scientist, but he wasn't Rodney, who'd been kept trapped in medical with nurses fussing over him when he should have been evaluating the device with Zelenka and Carson. "Where are we going? We have to go to the lab. I need to examine that device. He's wrong, you know. Wrong."

"We're going to my room and he's not wrong."

"Oh no, no, no." Rodney tried to swing around to face John, and that was a bad move. When both were moving and facing the same direction, the vertigo had been tolerable. Even better than what John appeared to be experiencing, which was satisfying in an odd way. Facing each other … they both moaned and collapsed against the wall.

"Look at us. We can't keep on this way. We have to get this fixed."

"Sex isn't going to fix this!"

"You don't know that," John said, dragging Rodney down the corridor again. "I'm willing to give it a try."

"And when it turns out that Zelenka is wrong and our having sex is pointless?" Rodney thought about struggling, but John was absurdly strong, and he didn't want to experience the vertigo again. He rather liked being stronger than John for once.

"You can gloat at him and tell him he's wrong. That'll make you happy." The door of John's bedroom opened to his command and he pushed Rodney into it. John's resolve faltered with the disorientation, and he released Rodney as he collapsed onto his bed, feeling the depression as Rodney plopped down beside him.

"This isn't going to work."

"It's not going to hurt. We've done it before, as Teyla so kindly pointed out."

"Which reminds me, you said they'd keep their mouths shut."

"She would have, if this hadn't come up. And if you hadn't insisted on insulting her people."

Rodney's expression was blank for a second, as if he couldn't figure out John's meaning, before John could see him make the connection. Rodney snapped, "Well they are farmers!"

"Rodney," John groaned, and struggled to roll over to his back, glaring up at the scientist. "I'm a pilot, Rodney. A pilot. I fly things. I have perfect balance. I don't get motion sickness. I need this fixed. Now either do what I ask, or get the hell out of here and let me try to sleep it off."

"You want me to … ah …"

"Yes, Rodney. I want you to take charge."

"Oh. You want me to make love to you."

"Yes, Rodney. I want you to make love to me." John gave up the fight, letting his head fall back, shutting his eyes. He took deep breaths, making himself relax, hoping it would help. He was lying diagonally across the bed, one of his legs dangling off it, but at this point he didn't have any more energy to browbeat Rodney. Rodney would do whatever Rodney was going to do. John hoped he'd make the right choice.

Even lying on his back, apparently asleep, the Major seemed rather intimidating to Rodney, and the idea of making love to him even more daunting. "Wait a second. I'm the one who thinks this won't work."

"Aren't you glad I'm letting you prove it? You can make sure it's done right," John said helpfully. "Before you stagger through Atlantis to tell Zelenka he's wrong." John swung one leg onto Rodney's lap. "Start with the shoes."

"I thought I was going to be in charge," Rodney groused, even as he obeyed John, unlacing his shoes, pushing one off John's foot, starting to unroll his white sock, and pausing, peering down at his own foot. He'd felt that, felt the brush of fingers on his skin. He finished pulling off the sock, resting his hand on John's foot even as the phantom hand rested on his own. Curious, he tickled John's insole, felt the twitch of John's foot in his hand, as well as the sensation on himself.

John gave a small laugh. "I'm ticklish," he said, tugging his foot away from Rodney.

Rodney filed the information away, even as he picked up John's other foot, repeated the removal of shoe and sock, the tickling of the insole, John's twitch, his own reaction.

"We're connected. We're really connected. Physiologically. I'm feeling what I'm doing to you. Do you understand what this means?"

"Yeah, at least one of the Ancients was into kinky stuff."

"The useful possibilities of such a device are endless. Helping the disabled, teaching … " Rodney floundered, not really sure what could be done with such a device, but positive that scientists and engineers more interested in the warm and fuzzy fields could find a constructive use for it.

"Why don't you continue the research? Make sure you understand how it works."

Rodney brushed his hand up the leg of John's uniform, feeling the smooth fabric on his palm, the answering caress on his leg. It was like the first time he'd seen a 3-D film as a child, waiting to reach out and touch the spaceship floating in front of him, even though he knew nothing was there. "You should touch me. We should see how far this goes."

"In a moment," John promised and Rodney grimaced at his closed eyes. So much for being in charge. He cupped John's groin, gave a little squeeze, and promptly whimpered at feeling his own touch reflected on his own penis.

That finally made John pay attention, his eyes flicking open. "Wait a minute. You're feeling what you do to me?"

"Didn't I just say that? We really are truly physiologically connected."

John propped himself on one elbow, caressing Rodney's face. "Wow." He touched his own face, touched Rodney's again. "It's like the ultimate in self-gratification with a partner."

"It's much more than that," Rodney said impatiently.

"Rodney …" John gathered Rodney into his arms, pulling the scientist on top of him, and kissing him, making it as melting and scorching as he could, with lots of deep tongue action, feeling Rodney's arms around him, Rodney's tongue in his mouth … or was he feeling himself? He opened his eyes, seeing Rodney's face close to his, Rodney's eyes closed and his expression blissed out, Rodney as involved in the intimacy as John.

Their lips separated, both breathing hard. "It's like equal and opposite reactions occurring at the same time." Rodney frowned. "But kissing this close is bad."

"It is?"

"Yes, yes, I was wrong. You shouldn't touch me. We need to control the sensations. You need to be more distant if we're going to disprove Radek's theory. It's too difficult to tell what the effects are when we're both so involved."

"I'll just lie back again then."

"Yes. Please." John leaned back, tucking the pillow under his head, closing his eyes, ceding his body to Rodney's control. Rodney bit his lip at the implicit permission, unsure once again how to proceed. Well, he'd asked to control the sensations, right? This was what he wanted. Keep his mind detached, study the effect. He undressed John steadily, shirt, trousers, underwear, leaving only his dog tags. Everything occurred exactly as the same as the shoes, the feeling that clothes were leaving his body even though he was completely dressed.

He twisted to lie on the bed by John, resting one hand on his torso. John's body was … Christ, did the man have any body fat? Lean and supple muscles, a smattering of chest hair that couldn't have been more perfectly designed by waxing …

"Are you going to do something?"

"Of course I am," he snapped, and reached down to take John's penis in his hand, stroking it firmly. His own penis reacted as if being squashed, and he flinched, fearing he was too hard in his nervousness. He tried to relax, tried to make his grasp more even, more sensual, tried to do a good job. After all, John had done this to him, without hesitation, in front of a roomful of strangers. He could do the same to prove Radek wrong. John's penis swelled in his hand, satisfyingly responsive to his fingers moving up and down the length. But then John's fingers flexed, coming to rest on top of Rodney's. "You weren't going to participate," Rodney instructed.

"It's weird. I feel like I'm holding you or maybe myself, even though I'm not."

"What did you feel when I undressed you?" Yes, clinical questions were good. Questions would delay proving whether he was as confident as John. He knew he wasn't.

"Like there was fabric and naked skin in my hands. Faintly, like the coffee you were drinking in medical."

"You tasted the coffee?"

"Yeah."

"Tactile and gustatory sensations. It's an amazing achievement, whatever it was intended for."

John's hand covered Rodney's, his slimmer, longer fingers intertwining with Rodney's, forcing Rodney to start stroking and caressing again, sharing the effort, speeding the tempo.

"What are you doing?"

"It's time to get this show on the road."

"You said I was in charge!"

"That's when I thought you were going to do something other than talk."

John curled his fingers tightly to emphasize his need, and the sensations hit Rodney forcefully, making him suddenly, acutely aware of the shape of John's cock in his hand, the feeling of his and John's hands on his own cock. He groaned loudly. "Oh god, this is amazing … it's two at once … "

"Yeah … there's my babbler." John was smiling that little half-smile that might almost be called a smirk if it wasn't so endearing. He kept his eyes closed to diminish the vertigo, but could imagine Rodney's rapidly changing emotions crossing his face.

Rodney's mind simply shorted out and he lost the ability to think rationally, because John's free hand was plucking at his pants, pushing them down, so he could hold Rodney as Rodney was holding him … or was Rodney holding himself? He couldn't tell and looked down to see that their hands were once again intertwined, one on each cock, and John was making them move, making them stroke and fondle and pull, their hands in unison, their need combined and interchangeable.

For the first time, Rodney realized that John had been nervous in that whole 'forced sex before aliens' episode. In comparison to now, John's touch and sucking then had been hesitant, tentative. But now … Rodney's mouth was talking, he knew that, he could hear nonsensical words pouring out, but he could only concentrate on John's hands, the hands of a pilot, who was used to commanding switches and dials, taking control, making large powerful machines do what he wanted … John's hands were finesse and skill and experience and oh-my-god-amazing and was he admitting that out loud? He must have, because he could hear John's sweet laugh in his ear, as John sped up their motions, making Rodney writhe and buck on the bed.

John was arching into his and Rodney's hands, deliberately rubbing his body on the side of Rodney's, glorying in the sensation of the smooth fabric of Rodney's uniform brushing on his body. He couldn't see but he could hear, and the sound was gratifying, Rodney's ceaseless prattle about how good it all was, how good John was and oh my god … John breathed harshly, forcing the pace faster and faster, feeling like he was pulling a jet fighter up too sharply, the pressure on his chest, the light headedness, the knowledge that when he had to release the controls, the ship would come crashing down …

Then Rodney gave that funny yowl of his, and John was coming too, their sperm covering their hands as the pleasure doubled and echoed through their bodies, the effects and aftereffects indistinguishable from each other, sending shivers through them, until neither of them knew anything except they were coming and coming and Christ … the pleasure was too much for a single body to absorb but together they made it through to the other side, when the brakes caught and the fighter screamed to a landing and their bodies could relax again.

~~~~

Rodney thought he might be capable of speaking again, so he opened his mouth to say something articulate and monumental to reflect on what had occurred. "Huh," came out.

"Yeah."

"I'm still not convinced that Radek is correct."

Unplanned but in unison, John and Rodney twisted on the bed to face other, John smiling wryly at Rodney's dogged persistence. "Do you really care at this point?"

"So what now?" Rodney asked.

John plucked at his t-shirt. "You're still rather overdressed."

Rodney swung his legs off the bed, and they both whimpered at the dizziness. "Radek is not correct."

"Maybe we should have more sexual intercourse. He did say we might need a lot of it."

"So what do you suggest?"

"You still need to undress. Just … go slow."

Obeying John, Rodney took off his clothes carefully, not waiting to cause John more vertigo, conscious of a ridiculous nervousness. He'd just shared the best orgasm of his life with the other man, but he didn't want to show him his body. Because … damn … he glanced at John's relaxed body. The man was trim and well muscled, no hair growing in bad places, no imperfections … which would be extremely annoying if it wasn't so impressive. And sexy.

John poked Rodney in the closest spot, which happened to be his thigh. "There's massage oil in the bathroom. Walk slowly when you get it."

"Massage oil?"

"Lube, Rodney. We need lube."

"Oh." Rodney finished stripping and obeyed John's instructions to the letter, walking slowly, fumbling in his cabinet, finding the oil, but his mind was whirling. Was he ready for this? Did John have any experience in doing this? How painful would it be?

But when he returned to the bedroom, it was to the sight of John hooking his knees over his elbows, spreading himself wide, and scrunching on the bed to angle his pelvis up. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"You're not seriously expecting me to … ?"

"Rodney, are we actually going to fight over who's going to be on the bottom?"

"No. No, I guess not. I mean … no."

"You've heard the theory, I presume."

"Yes."

"Good then. Do it."

Rodney bit his lip, feeling awkward standing by the bed naked, a bottle of oil in his hand, John spread out for his taking. For his taking. All his. He flipped the spout up and dribbled some oil in his hand, massaging it into his erection, which had returned full-bore. John's eyes were shut again, and Rodney really wished he'd open them, make sure that Rodney was doing everything right.

As if in response to his thoughts, John muttered, "That feels so good. Feels like you're stroking me. I think you've got it well covered now."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm a pretty tough guy."

Rodney perched on the edge of the bed, slicking his hand some more, putting the bottle on the bedside table. Nervously, he inserted a finger in John's anus, his buttocks clenching at the echoing feeling in his own body. This was going to be seriously weird.

One fingers, two, loosening the muscle, making it expand … really glad that it was John on the bottom, because it was odd enough when the touch wasn't really there, just a figment of overactivated synapses, his brain echoing the information from John's nerves … is this what it would feel like to have someone's fingers in your ass? "Are you okay?" Rodney asked, seeking reassurance that he wasn't messing up. His fingers slid forward a tiny bit more as he asked, and John gave a harsh gasp in response. "John?"

"Christ, do that again."

So Rodney did, pressing on the same place he'd reached, the tingle in his body telling him what he instinctively knew, but wanting confirmation that John's reaction was from pleasure, not pain. "Is that …?"

"Yeah. Oh definitely yeah. You can press on that all you like."

Rodney brought his knees forward, close to John's buttocks, and John placed his legs on Rodney's shoulders. "Time to … ah … "

"Past time," John affirmed, taking Rodney's head in his hands, giving him one of those lingering kisses that Rodney thought could become addictive. It was difficult, to line up his penis with John's anus while being kissed senseless, but Rodney achieved it, just the crown sinking into John. "Are you okay?" he asked again.

"If you were this worried about my opinion when we were on the mainland, we wouldn't be in this position," John grumbled but his tone was good-natured.

"Did it occur to you, that if Zelenka is right, it might have been your kiss that activated the device and got us in this mess?" Speaking coherently was a struggle, but Rodney managed it, unwilling to allow the blame to be placed on his bull-headedness.

"John Sheppard, the man of legendary kisses across the galaxy …"

The snappy comment made a wicked thought cross Rodney's mind, which escaped as a small giggle.

John pinched him on the side of his torso. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't think I should tell you."

"Give," John said, squeezing Rodney's butt. "What wicked thought crossed your mind?"

"Rodney McKay … going where no man has gone before. Unless … " his eyes met John's, and he accepted that the sensations were better, less disorienting now that they'd shared one orgasm. Maybe Zelenka wasn't completely wrong.

"No, you're the first. Does that mean you're Captain Kirk and I'm Yeoman Rand?"

Rodney had to laugh at that absurdity, a laughter that bubbled up from down in his chest and distracted him from his nervousness. He almost collapsed on John, sliding in deeper and faster than he'd intended, but when he made to withdraw, John slipped his strong legs from Rodney's shoulders and locked them around his hips, not letting him.

"It's okay," John reassured him.

"I can't believe that." Rodney winced at the phantom invasion. "It feels … burning."

"Rodney, how many times am I going to have to make you stop experimenting and get on with it?" John rolled his pelvis, rocking Rodney back and forth, lodging him deeper.

Taking a steadying breath, Rodney braced his forearms on the bed, and kissed John desperately, trying to make his brains fry, as he pushed in, attempting to ignore the eerie sensation that he was losing his own anal virginity. John kissed him back, whole-heartedly, his heels digging into Rodney's buttocks, encouraging him to go all the way.

"Oh my god … oh my god …" Rodney's balls slapped against John's skin and he had to stop at the sheer wonder of where he was and who he was with and how incredibly hot it was, John's body surrounding the entire length of his cock.

And then John bit Rodney's ear, murmuring, "Come on, Rodney, give it to me hard. That's an order."

Rodney pulled out, not completely, because oh god, he couldn't bear to leave John's body completely, and shoved back in hard, trusting that he'd used enough lube, that John was really, truly okay with this, because it was too good to stop now, he was fucking John, rocking on top of that long, lanky body, feeling those limber legs circle his hips, demanding more and more. The feeling of something within his own body no longer mattered because he was in ecstasy, rocking on John, following John's stated order, following the dictates of John's legs and John's hands, giving it to him harder and harder, using his entire body to shove himself in and out, knowing that it was all fine, because John wanted this and Rodney wanted John and nothing existed in the entire universe except the feeling of skin and muscles and hands and … Rodney cried out as he came fiercely, his sperm flooding into John as his mind overloaded and short circuited.

Neither of them moved for a long time, too exhausted and unwilling to break the connection. John finally released the grip of his legs around Rodney's hips, bringing them back to the bed, shifting Rodney to a more comfortable position on top of him.

"How much of that did I just say aloud?"

"A lot." John smiled as he gave a quick kiss to Rodney's forehead. "I really liked the part about your willingness to follow my commands. I'm going to remember that the next time you're difficult on a mission."

Rodney groaned in embarrassment, burying his head into John's chest. John didn't say anything else, just shifted some more, causing Rodney to grumble, "Now what?"

"Getting a little more comfortable. I'm going to sleep a little."

"Did we prove Radek wrong?"

"Let's figure it out in the morning," John yawned, and thought at the lights, which obediently dimmed for him.

"Okay," Rodney replied, and fell asleep.

~~~~

His internal clock woke John. That, and the discomfort of being pushed out of the bed. Rodney had cuddled up to him during the night. And cuddled closer and closer, until John was half-hanging off the side.

John crept out of the bed, giving Rodney his pillow to hug when the scientist sleepily reached for him. He muttered something incomprehensible, clutched the pillow to him, and gave a soft snore. John pulled on sweats, very aware of his body. Yesterday's problems were clearly gone, the vertigo, nausea, and flashes of looking through someone else's eyes eliminated. But his body felt unnatural in a different way, sores in places that just weren't used to feeling sore, regardless of how brutally a mission had gone.

Quietly, slowly, he went through a series of stretches, calves, thighs, torso, arms, leading into some of the moves Teyla had taught him, twirling back and forth across the room, swinging his arms with deadly intent, fighting an imaginary attacker in close quarters, until his body was warm and supple again.

There was a soft knock on the door and Elizabeth's voice gave a gentle, "John?" Rodney slept on, oblivious, and John took a moment to pull the sheets up to his chest, before going to the door. He opened it and stepped out.

Elizabeth backed up to give John space, holding a tray in her hands. "You look better than yesterday."

"I feel good."

"So Zelenka was right?"

Very carefully keeping his face expressionless, John nodded. He knew he would have to cover all of this in a mission report, but he wanted to do it precisely, with consideration for what Rodney would want their superiors to know.

"Well, not exactly the type of alien technology that we'd hoped to find, but Carson thinks it might have some application in healing."

"I wish him success. But I don't think I'll volunteer to be a test subject."

"No, I would imagine not." Elizabeth thrust the tray toward him. "I didn't think you two had a chance to eat since breakfast yesterday."

John took the tray. "Thanks."

"I'll need a more accurate report on the other mission."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I'll get to it today."

"I need to know if this is going to cause any problems between you and Rodney. Will you still be able to work together?"

"Of course we will," John snapped. He heard his own tone and frowned. Elizabeth wasn't his commanding officer, but she was his leader, and she had a right to be concerned about the people under her authority. Softly, he said, "Rodney and I are going to be fine. You don't have to worry about us."

"Good. I've asked Bates to handle your responsibilities today. You have the day off. I thought you might need some time alone."

"Thank you, Elizabeth."

She walked off and John went back into his room, sitting on the edge of the bed, taking the cover off the tray. So very Elizabeth, an appetizing selection of yogurt and cereal and fruit, food that wouldn't look nasty and congealed if it sat for a while. Was that woman ever not thoughtful? He sipped one of the coffees and tore into the food, suddenly aware of his hunger. Rodney continued sleeping, and John watched his face, looking very different when softened in repose. Less animated, but no less interesting.

John put the tray on the bedside table. He took off his sweats, and inched his pillow out of Rodney's arms, before getting into bed from the other side. His training said to get dressed, to check in with his men, to ensure the safety of his people. But his leader said he had the day off, and a little more sleep sounded like a great way to spend part of that day.

~~~~~

Waking up brought Rodney to an awareness of two facts.

First, John was a hog. He took up nearly 2/3rds of the bed as he sprawled on his stomach, both pillows bunched under him, one leg spread into Rodney's side of the bed, forcing Rodney to curl onto the top half of the bed and into John's body.

Second, John reminded him of a lion. Not an African lion, with the huge mane and the powerful shoulders, but a mountain lion, all lean body and strong muscles, soft fur and expressive eyes. And surprisingly comfortable shoulder blades, perfect for Rodney's head to rest on. Rodney gazed down the length of John's body, admiring the tapering back muscles, the annoyingly perfectly rounded butt, the long, long legs. Yes, definitely a mountain lion.

"Good morning, sleepy head."

Rodney jerked away at the unexpected words, almost falling off the bed, as John rolled over to face him.

"You okay?"

"How did you know I was awake?"

"Your breathing changed."

"Oh. Is that something you learned in military school?"

"You'd be amazed at what I've learned in the military. Nothing quite as much fun as last night, though."

Rodney found himself pulled under John, who offered him sleepy kisses, as he rolled on top of Rodney, bringing their hips together, thrusting lazily. The release was fast but gentle, just a little … oh, oh, yes! … and then over. Rodney found that he very much enjoyed waking up in that fashion, even as he protested, "Why did you do that?"

"Two men, two erections … it seemed a good way to start the day." John gave him another sleepy kiss and rolled off the bed, coming to stand all in one fluid motion. "I'm going to shower. You wanna join me?"

"It's over. It's over! You rolled and I didn't feel it."

"Yeah, I noticed that in the night. I got up and did a few calisthenics. You snore, by the way."

"I do not!"

"Do too. Wanna shower?"

"Don't you understand we're cured?"

"That was what last night was about, right?"

Rodney bunched the sheets around his waist, beginning to be a little unnerved at both John's nakedness, his bare skin covered by nothing except his dog tags, and his seeming disinterest in the resolution of their problem. "I thought you'd be happier about it."

John shrugged and gave a wry grimace. "Didn't you enjoy last night?"

"Well yes … of course, I did. It was hard not to. But not so much that I want to live like that forever."

"I wasn't real fond of staggering through the hallways either. But let's just say I'm still back at the 'of course I did' part and leave it at that." Apparently resigned to showering alone, John headed into the bathroom, leaving Rodney sitting perplexed on the bed, trying to make sense of what he'd said. Rodney heard the noise of the shower running before John's head poked back out. "I'll leave you the pleasure of telling Zelenka that he was correct." John disappeared again.

Radek. Crap. And Elizabeth and Ford and Teyla and Carson. They all knew what Radek had recommended, why John had hauled him out of the conference room. What John, Mr. Military Man, Mr. Mountain Lion, seemed completely happy to admit he'd enjoyed. What John seemed to wish had continued longer.

Rodney didn't understand it. He didn't understand John. Wasn't this how yesterday started? He was back in a perpetual loop of confusion, and being confused rubbed Rodney against the grain. He gazed unseeingly toward the open bathroom door, thinking of John standing in the shower, of John running soap over his body, lathering shampoo into his short dark hair … He thought of John's high-handed nature, dragging him into his bedroom like a caveman, and then his unexpected generosity, letting Rodney make his own decision, letting Rodney do anything he wanted to his body, trusting that Rodney would get them out of the fix they were in …

For a little while anyway. John did have that bad habit of taking control back, of making Rodney dance to the touch of his hands, of making Rodney fuck him, of cracking Trek references to make Rodney laugh in the middle of penetration …

The renewal of his erection persuaded Rodney to flip the covers away and get out of bed. No, he didn't understand it. But he never would if he didn't explore it more, would he? Personal exploration, observation, testing … they were some of the most important principles for advancing scientific knowledge.

It was time for Rodney to start acting like the great scientist he was.

~ the end ~


	3. The One With the Vampire Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aliens keep making the boys have sex, only this time with blood drinking too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to Cleito for the eagle-eyed beta, and to Sithdragn for the support and canon checks.

On the very few occasions where John Sheppard had allowed himself to imagine getting his own command, never in his wildest dreams had it been as perfect as living in Atlantis. Sure, the big problems were beyond horrendous, the large nasty aliens constantly trying to suck their very life force, and the lack of contact and support from his commanding officers, or anyone at all on the planet Earth. But the people of Atlantis were amazing. Ford and the other soldiers were some of the damned finest, bravest men and women John had ever served with, Teyla was a kick-ass alien guide, and Elizabeth was a bureaucrat who was both compassionate and intelligent, a species John had never thought to encounter.

Speaking of which … John turned his neck to glance back as he heard the door open, smiling as Elizabeth stepped onto the balcony. "Hi."

"You're becoming very fond of sunsets, aren't you?"

"They're lovely here." John sipped his coffee, and waited for Elizabeth to speak. He could always tell when she'd tracked him down to discus a subject she didn't want to bring up in normal briefings with the rest of the senior staff.

Elizabeth didn't rush to talk, propping her arms on the balcony ledge by John, enjoying the salt air and the sun slowly disappearing behind the horizon. "The Atlantis grapevine seems to think someone has become fond of you."

"Someone?" John looked at Elizabeth, and caught her meaning. They worked well together, arguing on occasion but often on the same page. "Rodney?" He didn't want Elizabeth to think he was laughing at her, but he couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice.

"A number of people saw the two of you staggering into your quarters together. And other people saw you two emerge mid-morning the next day."

John sighed. Yeah, Atlantis was a wonderful command, but it was a small, isolated one. Even in a large command, gossip was only natural and to be expected. It was practically a weed here. "I'll ask Ford to mention to a few people what happened, that it was out of our control. Word'll get around."

"Actually, I like the gossip. I think it makes the homosexual members of our community more comfortable."

"Do we have homosexual members of our community?"

"Don't be insulting, John. Don't ask, don't tell, is your pretense, not mine."

"I guess I deserved that." John drained his cup, savoring the last sips of dark, strong flavor. He'd accidentally drunk Rodney's coffee one time, and almost gagged at the sweetness. "I'm sorry. Some habits that are hard to break, and military blindness is one of them."

Elizabeth nodded, accepting the apology.

"So if you don't care about the gossip, why are we having this conversation?"

"I care about my people. I worry when they get too involved."

"And you think … " John paused, trying to follow Elizabeth's train of thought, which for once was surprisingly hard to do, " … Rodney is getting too involved?"

"Have you noticed how helpful he's been lately?"

"Well … yeah, but he's been egotistical about it every time too."

"Rodney is always Rodney. But I think he's genuinely trying to please you, John."

"O - kay," John said doubtfully. "And you think that I should …? "

"I think you should let him down gently and firmly, before he gets his hopes up. I think you owe him that. He has enough problems getting along with people. We don't need him dealing with the public embarrassment of being rejected by you."

John considered the sunset, the vanishing yellow rays, and wondered how the hell he should respond. Elizabeth was a great leader, but obviously she had some blind spots, fortunately one of which was noticing that John had been paying attention to Rodney, not vice versa. Or had she indeed noticed, and this was her subtle way of warning him off? Elizabeth had been a political mediator before she became a bureaucrat; she could be very good at subtle. "I'll talk to Rodney," he promised. "I'll make the situation clear between us."

"Thank you, John. I knew I could count on you."

"Always, Elizabeth." She left the balcony and John followed her back into Atlantis, contemplating the one who was rapidly becoming his favorite person under his command, Rodney McKay.

~~~~

Rodney had always known that he would be a great scientist, doing amazing research, making the important break-throughs of his generation, but he'd never imagined that his big opportunity would come in another galaxy, isolated from home, with a small core of fellow scientists to assist him. He'd never imagined that part of accomplishing that brilliant work would be tromping off to different planets, meeting with strange aliens who would frequently try to kill him, and end up being protected by the hottest soldier he'd ever seen.

Sighing, Rodney rubbed his brow, wondering if there was some way to scrub thoughts of Major John Sheppard from his brain. The man was becoming a pest, hounding Rodney even when he wasn't present. Maybe the Ancients had invented a memory removal device? Now he just had to find it, decipher how to work it, use it, and then never see John again, never have more sex with him …

Think of the devil, and in he walks, Sheppard, looking casual and relaxed, hands in his pockets. "Hey."

"Major," Rodney said curtly. Sheppard didn't usually walk with his hands in his pockets. They always swung by his side. Rodney couldn't help glancing at the front of John's pants and quickly looked back down at the Ancient database he'd been reading. "Can I help you with something?"

"I was just wondering how you're doing."

"I'm fine, thank you." Pay no attention to him, read the database, he'll go away, Rodney told himself.

Unfortunately, John didn't seem to be listening to Rodney's internal dialogue, swinging his leg over a chair and sitting down. "Elizabeth thinks you're courting me."

"Elizabeth what?"

"Elizabeth thinks – "

"Yes, yes, I don't have any problems with my hearing. What gave Elizabeth the insane notion that I'm courting you?" He didn't understand people, really, truly he didn't. Courting Sheppard? The man drove him insane. Especially in bed.

"You helped Teyla's people with the water project."

"I happen to like to eat, particularly something besides military rations. And the coffee is not going to last forever. We need some kind of decent substitute."

"You helped Ford – "

"What is this, I use a smidgen of my genius to help other people on Atlantis, and Elizabeth assumes I'm romancing you? Helping Ford with weapons research helps protect Atlantis. Where, oh gee, I happen to live now."

John shrugged, but his eyes said Rodney's agitation was amusing him. "It was just a comment."

"Well it was a stupid comment. Elizabeth is usually brighter than that." Rodney glared at John, and John just smiled back. "If that was all you had to say, you can leave now. You can tell Elizabeth that I'll stop being helpful."

"Actually, I've been instructed to make my position clear. And you know I always follow orders."

"Your position?" Those words brought a hot flash of recollection, of John on his back, his legs tucked around Rodney's hips … no, don't think of that. Think of physics, think of complex equations … but that brought up thoughts of big bangs and exploding stars and other places Rodney didn't want his imagination to visit.

"I'm military. My job is to protect the people of Atlantis. That's what I do."

"Yes, yes, and you do it very well. We all know that." He spoke dismissively, like John was the janitor keeping piles of garbage from overflowing, even though he knew he owed his life to John, many times over.

John smiled sweetly, but his eyes were serious as he stroked one side of Rodney's face, a long caress from temple to jaw line. "Look, we're living in a place where we could lose our lives tomorrow. And I'm not going to throw away a good thing because of what might make my superiors unhappy, if and when I ever see them again. So if you ever want to be more than team members, you let me know."

Rodney found himself backed against the lab table as John kissed him, exquisitely and deliberately. And then he just walked out, with that long-limbed swagger of his, leaving all the decisions in Rodney's hands.

Damn the man. Why did he have to be the best part of Atlantis?

~~~~

Elizabeth was always nervous when a team was out exploring, even if the mission seemed routine. In her opinion, nothing was standard in the Pegasus Galaxy. She hid her nervousness well, knowing that confidence was one of the characteristics she most needed to display. The people of Atlantis were isolated and alone, instinctively looking for someone to believe in, someone they could trust would get them through the problems they faced. Unfortunately, that was she. And Major Sheppard.

She stayed calm when the call came through, Sheppard's voice crackling over the comm system a second after the gate was activated. "Atlantis, we need a medical team. Rodney has been wounded."

"Major, what is his condition?" Elizabeth glanced at Ramirez, appreciating good training as she noted the tech relaying the information to Carson.

"He was attacked by some kind of animal. He has numerous wounds all over his body and is bleeding heavily. I think he's going into shock."

"Was anyone else hurt?"

"I got slammed against a tree, but I'm okay."

"We'll let Carson decide that. A medical team is on its way."

The jumper shot through the gate and landed instantly, delicately. Sheppard clearly wasn't too hurt to fly with his normal skill. Elizabeth started down the steps toward the floor in front of the gate even as Carson and his team rushed into the room, pushing a stretcher. Rodney was at least ambulatory, staggering out of the jumper with Ford and Teyla's assistance, but his appearance was horrible, his clothes stained with blood from wounds like big scratches on his body, his face pale, his expression blank with shock.

"Help him lie on the stretcher," Carson ordered, and Ford and Teyla followed the instruction. In seconds, Carson and his team were rushing toward the infirmary with their patient.

John stepped out of the jumper, and like the others, he had blood stains on his clothes. Rodney's blood. Elizabeth shuddered, hating any time that someone under her command was wounded. "What happened?"

"Some crazy … Thing … attacked him."

Elizabeth arched her eyebrows at John as he gave the worst mission report of his life. Teyla leaped to provide more description. "We do not know what happened. Everything was going fine. We were meeting with the village elders. Rodney was having a discussion with someone who I believe to be a village shaman. They wandered out of our sight. After a while, we heard Rodney screaming. Major Sheppard reached him first, and fired several rounds into the creature. The creature hit him and sent him flying. Ford and I both fired, and the creature ran off. We helped McKay and the Major stand, and headed to the jumper."

"And the village elders? What did they do while this was happening?"

"They stayed in the village."

"That seems unusual."

"Look, I need to put the jumper in the bay and see how Rodney's doing," John interrupted.

Elizabeth wasn't pleased with John's impatience. When returning from a mission gone bad, he normally recognized that he couldn't assist in the infirmary, and understood that she needed to be informed. But John wasn't being normal this time. Even though he remained relatively calm, the distraction in his eyes said the Major was extremely upset by the attack on Rodney. "Very well. Remember to have Carson examine you when he's through with Rodney."

John was off without a word, walking back into the jumper and lifting off, leaving the three of them standing on the control room floor. Ford almost grabbed the rifle slung over Teyla's shoulder. "I'll return this to the weapons locker." He jerked his head in a nod, like he already had permission to go, and scampered out of the room.

"I believe I would like to clean up, Doctor Weir."

"Yes, Teyla, thank you for the report."

Elizabeth strode sedately back to the command center, as if nothing was abnormal, remembering John's words. 'Rodney and I will be fine.' 'I'll make the situation clear.' She'd gotten the wrong end of the stick, and John had blithely let her, without batting an eye.

She needed to have another talk with John. A long one. And this time, John was going to be honest.

~~~

Rodney hurt.

Rodney hated hurting.

Oh, there were happy drugs in his system. He could feel them in his veins, supposedly eliminating the pain, but only succeeding in masking it. An IV was in his arm, his torso was full of stitches, and he hurt.

He looked blearily at the world, discovering that he was indeed in the infirmary, under Beckett's thumb. John was sitting in the chair next to his bed, dozing. His clothes had bloodstains on them, and his chin was sporting five o'clock shadow. He looked dreadful, in a macho-sexy way.

"John?"

John snapped awake. "You okay?"

"I hurt," he said, as if John would fix it.

"Let me get Beckett."

"No." He tried to wave one arm, finding it weak.

John took his hand, holding it between both of his, those clever pilot's hands. "You want me to stay?"

"He's awake?" Carson bustled over and Rodney lost the memory of what he wanted to tell John. "How are you feeling?"

"I hurt."

"You lost a lot of blood and some of the wounds were deep. We had to sew you up in several places. But you'll be fine and feeling better soon. Let me increase your medication." Carson was fiddling with the IV and his instruments, and Rodney felt more happy drugs flooding into him. Not that they would help, because Carson was fixing what he saw the source of the pain, the wounds, not realizing that the problem was much larger. The problem was … What was the problem? Rodney giggled and clutched at John's hand.

"Don't worry," John soothed. "I'll stay."

That wasn't right; John alone couldn't fix the problem. But for now, it was enough.

~~~~

John missed the second time Rodney woke, having been chased out of the infirmary by the combined force of Carson and Teyla, who insisted he shower, change clothes, and eat. But he was there the third time. "Hey."

Rodney blinked, his eyes more alert. "Hi."

"How are you doing?"

"I'm feeling better."

Carson noticed their conversation, coming over and examining Rodney, asking his fussy medical questions. John scooted out of the way and did small stretches in the chair. He hadn't wanted to do anything that might wake Rodney, but his body was tired of sitting. Inactivity had never been his strong suit.

"You're healing remarkably well," Carson noted, his fingers touching Rodney's stitches. "I don't think I've seen anyone recuperate quite that fast." Carson's down turned mouth said he wasn't particularly happy with Rodney's healing ability.

"Lucky I guess." Rodney spoke distractedly, his eyes on John.

"At this rate you should be able to leave the infirmary tomorrow." Carson waited for a response from Rodney, but finally said, "Well, Elizabeth wanted to be kept updated," and left.

John pulled his chair back to the bedside. "Zelenka brought you your laptop," gesturing to where he'd tucked it safely out of the way. "But I don't think you should be working yet."

"He's loaded it with the stash."

"The stash?" John raised his eyebrows.

"Oh … " Rodney had an 'oh crap' look that screamed he'd realized he'd revealed something he shouldn't. The expression was atypical for Rodney, who seemed to regard blunt tactlessness as his preferred communication style. The drugs must still be making him loopy, and John pounced on the blunder.

In his firmest voice, John said, "Rodney, did you guys bring files you weren't supposed to?"

"Only what we had to. Trek. Babylon 5. Classics. The one item rule was too absurd."

"So you guys brought movies on your laptops? And here I thought you'd loaded them with important scientific data."

"We brought all the research data on the Ancients." Rodney shifted, and John helped him sit up, keeping the tubes out of his way. "But there was space left. So we coordinated the stash."

"So while the military was running around, planning logistics of food and munitions, you were voting on bug-eyed alien movies?"

Rodney snorted. "Classics, I said, not bug-eyed alien movies. Besides, we spent months planning this mission before you showed up with your special ability to use the Ancient gene."

John realized that he was still sitting right next to Rodney on the hospital bed. He glanced around uncomfortably, noticing that Carson was out of the room and the nurse didn't seem to be paying attention to them, but scooted off the bed and returned to the side chair anyway. "Do you have Wormhole Extreme?"

"That piece of trash? It didn't make the ballot."

"I thought you might have appreciated the irony."

"Did you ever see that show? The woman playing Sam's role looked nothing like her. Nothing."

Rodney's vehemence surprised John, though it was a relief to see the spots of color on his face. "You're sweet on her."

"On who?"

Well, definitely not on the skanky actress, as if that really had to be said. And here John had thought that Rodney was truly passionate only about physics. "On Sam Carter."

"I am not sweet on Samantha Carter. She happens to be one of the finest scientists with whom I have ever had the privilege to work."

"Oh, that's all."

"Yes, that's all."

The little flare of jealousy at Rodney's obvious attachment surprised John. After all, this relationship couldn't go anywhere, couldn't become anything lasting and meaningful. They were just playing around, getting some relief. One of these days they'd find a ZPM and return to Earth or the Wraith would launch a massive attack or … any number of possible options might occur, many of which might result in his death, and none of which were likely to result in he and Rodney sharing togetherness for a long time. "So you wanna watch something?"

"No."

"Okay. You want something to eat?"

"No."

"Something to read?"

"No. Just … the truth?"

"The truth?"

Rodney bit his lip, but asked more boldly than John had ever thought he would. "Why are you interested in having sex with me?"

The temptation to blow off the question was on his tongue, with evasive nonsense like 'Why not?' or a flippant answer of, 'You look good sweating,' or some such evasive nonsense that would irritate Rodney and derail his line of questioning. But Rodney was his teammate, a wounded man, and deserved honesty. "Because I like you. And I like having sex with you."

"I annoy you. Frequently."

"Well … yeah."

"So you like having sex with people who irritate you?"

"Well … no. Not generally. I guess I'd have to say you're the exception."

They sat in silence for a while, John hoping he'd been honest enough and really wishing that Teyla or Ford would walk in to check on Rodney's status. Some distraction would relieve the tension and might snap Rodney out of his odd absorption with staring into John's eyes.

Rodney scooted back down in the bed, and John immediately leaped up to help him again, keeping the tubes out of his way, rearranging the sheet and thin cover. "I'm going to sleep some more. You'll stay?"

"Yeah. I'll be here," John promised.

~~~~

Something had changed within Rodney. He couldn't tell quite what. It hovered outside of his awareness, like a tingling sensation during a scary movie that makes you jump and turn to see if someone is behind you. Only normally there's no one there and you laugh at being spooked, but Rodney rather thought that the scary person had been faster than his turning, and was behind him again.

Carson knew something had changed too, but he couldn't identify it. All he knew was that Rodney had healed, ridiculously fast. Maybe it was something about the creature that had attacked Rodney, something about Atlantis … None of it made sense, and Carson didn't like medical mysteries. But he had no justification for keeping Rodney, and when Rodney made scathing comments to prove that his intelligence and normal lack of tact were fully restored, Carson reluctantly agreed to let him go. John disappeared for a few minutes, showing up with clean clothes, waiting while Rodney changed out of the hospital gown, and then ambling by his side as he walked to his quarters.

"I'm fine. I could go back to work," Rodney suggested, waiting for John's objection, knowing it would come.

"Two days rest, at least. You promised Carson."

"Oh, very well." Rodney paused outside of his quarters. John stopped, looking at him inquisitively when he didn't make a move to enter. "Something up?"

"You said you liked having sex with me. And that I should tell you if I ever wanted more." Rodney spoke low and did his best to give John one of those looks that the other man had patented, the slow caress from eyes to groin with a fast flick back up. John stood stock still, as if he couldn't believe his ears and eyes, making Rodney think he'd done it right.

"And is that what you're telling me?" John spoke in a voice that didn't seem quite his own.

"I want to fuck you again. I want to fuck you hard."

Then John was kissing him and shoving him through the doorway at the same time, their feet almost tangling but not quite tripping as they danced into the room.

And Rodney knew it was going to be much better than last time, and very, very different. John didn't realize how different it was going to be, because he didn't understand that Rodney had changed. But he would know soon.

~~~~

Carson would kill him for this. Elizabeth would scold him and give him one of her firm, unhappy looks. John knew those facts, but they were a distant reality compared to the feel of Rodney's body in his arms, Rodney kissing him like he wanted to devour him. John kissed back, pushing Rodney into the room, slamming him against the wall, only breaking the kiss long enough to pull his shirt up over his head and command, "Get undressed."

Their lips were locked together again, as John's hands dealt with his belt buckle and his trousers, kicking off his shoes as he pushed the rest of his clothes to his feet. This time it was Rodney who broke the kiss, a Rodney who was wearing too many clothes and seemed strangely amused.

"We have all night, John."

"That's what you think," John muttered, distinctly concerned he wasn't going to last long, Rodney's graphic words and unabashed desire pushing him too far, too fast, after the long days of watching Rodney's pale face as he recovered from his wounds, wounds that John should have been able to prevent. But Rodney was dropping to kneel at John's feet, picking up John's feet one a time, helping him step out of his trousers and remove his socks.

Then Rodney was leaning forward, taking John's dick into his mouth. "Christ," John gasped, holding onto Rodney's scalp, running his fingers through the short brown hair. "You've done this before," he accused.

Rodney interrupted his sucking long enough to respond, "No," before resuming his task with eager lips and tongue.

John struggled to breathe. He truly wasn't going to last long if Rodney kept sucking like he was, making little groaning noises in his throat, and swirling his tongue around the head of John's dick. But hey, who really cared if orgasms were shared? John would happily let Rodney fuck him all night if he could have this one orgasm, which was promising to be a doozy.

But then Rodney stopped, just stopped as John felt his balls tighten, preparing to spurt. John was left dangling, needing that final push to go over the edge, and not receiving it. "Bastard!"

Rodney laughed, and grabbed John's hands away from his cock. "No, I don't think so," he said coolly, threading his fingers through John's and holding them on the wall on each side of John's head.

It was almost scary in a way, how different Rodney seemed. Very in control and a little cruel. Scary but sexy, a Rodney who knew how he wanted John. John pressed his hands on Rodney's, trying to force him back, but Rodney held him tight to the wall. John had always assumed that he could overpower Rodney, but he was no longer sure of that fact. "I want you naked," John said, not sure what weird game Rodney was playing, but needing him to appear as vulnerable as John felt.

"I will be. In a little bit." Rodney plastered his still clothed body on John's, his hips thrusting against John's. Happily, John curled his legs around Rodney's hips, letting the wall and Rodney take his weight. His head arched back on the wall as his hips picked up the rhythm, their bodies stroking together, John trying to get back to the place of imminent release. Rodney was sucking at his throat, as hard as he'd sucked John's cock, and there would be a hell of a bruise to try to cover in the morning, not that John cared, because who the hell knew Rodney could suck like that?

And then Rodney bit him, two teeth sinking into John's arched throat. It hurt like hell, the stabbing pain of sharp teeth in his soft flesh, but it was a good pain too, a pain that lets you know you're still alive, that your body exists to be hurt. John came a heartbeat later, his cock erupting onto the front of Rodney's trousers, his hips bucking, rubbing the sensitive underside on the slick fabric of Rodney's uniform as every last drop spilled.

John hung in Rodney's arms, unable to move. Rodney withdrew his teeth and lapped at John's throat, cleaning every last trace of blood from his skin. He released John's hands, helping him uncurl his legs and stand up again.

Feeling shaky, John touched his throat, trying to find the wounds, sure that they would need stitches. But his skin felt unmarked. "What the hell was that?"

"Didn't it feel good?" Rodney's expression was briefly uncertain, his lips still reddened from John's blood. John glanced at the front of his trousers, noting from the extent of the stains that he must have come too.

"That wasn't natural."

"But it felt good," Rodney said with more confidence.

"Yes." John had never been one to deny the truth.

"Come to bed now." Rodney took John's hands, tugging him across the room.

"Rodney, those were fangs. We should talk to Carson. And Elizabeth."

"We will," Rodney promised, even as he tugged his shirt over his head. "Later." He took John's head in his hands, kissing him hungrily before whispering in his ear, "I want to fuck you."

And John found himself obeying Rodney, found himself getting into bed on his belly, spreading his legs, waiting with anticipation for Rodney to undress and find lube. Because Rodney wanted to fuck him and nothing else seemed important.

~~~

"Hey sleepy head."

Rodney smiled at John's voice, putting his arm out, patting the bed, finding it empty. Opening his eyes, he saw John sitting on the chair by the bed, fully dressed. "Why don't you get back in bed?"

"You need to get up and get dressed. Carson is expecting us."

"Why?"

"Rodney … you bit me yesterday."

"Did I?"

"With fangs."

"Oh." Rodney ran his tongue along his teeth, but they felt normal. "I did, didn't I? That was hot."

"Yes, Rodney. It was really hot. But now we need to go see what caused it."

With a shock, Rodney realized that John was using one of his command voices, the sedate but controlling one reserved for situations where people were likely to start shooting and everyone needed to calm the hell down before someone got hurt. John was afraid of Rodney. That awareness jolted him to a seating position in bed. "I wouldn't hurt you."

"I know you won't. But we still need to know what's happened to you."

Rodney hesitated. John would escort him to Carson, who would examine him, searching for the changes, the not-Rodney presence that lurked out of sight. He needed to be certain that John was bound to him first. "I want you again," he said bluntly.

"And I still want you. But not until Carson has a chance to examine you, okay?"

Rodney searched John's eyes, seeing the honesty and the fear. "You promise?"

"I promise."

Rodney hesitated, not sure if he should rely on John's word. Scared people often said things that they didn't feel bound to uphold. But in John's eyes, the honesty was more powerful than his fear. Rodney would rely on that strength.

~~~~

Elizabeth strode into the infirmary, surprised to see that both Rodney and John had obviously been getting examined, the two of them sitting on separate beds, not wearing shirts. Rodney's wounds seemed almost healed, fading to a pale pink, while John was sporting a mammoth multi-colored bruise on his throat. Addressing Carson, she said, "Fill me in."

The doctor frowned unhappily. "Rodney has some sort of problem with his blood. I wish I could give you more details, but I can't. I've got some tests running."

"And John?"

"The Major appears to be healthy, though the two men … did share bodily fluids last night. I canna be sure if he's okay until I'm sure what's wrong with Rodney. And whether Rodney is infectious."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows quizzically at John, then at Rodney, then back at John. She knew exactly what Carson meant, but John needed to be raked over the coals a bit. "Shared bodily fluids?"

John shrugged uncomfortably, a faint pinkness on his cheeks. "Fellatio. Anal sex. That sort of thing."

"Well I'm glad we're all clear on that," Elizabeth snapped, giving John a long steady look. Directing her gaze back to Carson, she asked, "When do you expect to know more about Rodney?"

"A few hours. I can tell you that he's got multiple blood types in his system, and seems fine with it."

"I am fine," Rodney sighed. "Look, this is all completely unnecessary. There is absolutely nothing wrong with me."

"There's the fangs," John inserted. "You gotta admit the fangs are a little odd."

"I don't see any fangs," Elizabeth said.

"Aye, I still haven't actually seen them either. It would be helpful to observe them," Carson said to Rodney.

"I can't make them come out. This isn't something I controlled. Here fangs, emerge!"

"I think I know how to do it," John offered.

Elizabeth and Carson watched with fascination as John stroked the nape of Rodney's neck, guiding Rodney's mouth to his neck. Rodney scooted off his hospital bed, standing between his legs, almost sitting on one of his knees as he leaned into John's body. John kissed Rodney lightly on his face, using only his lips. No tongue, no teeth, just kisses that fluttered and landed. It was almost unbearably erotic and intimate, how gentle John's hands were on Rodney's neck, how softly they controlled his actions, how much the two men focused on each other, seemingly oblivious to their audience. John brought his other hand up, tracing Rodney's lips. "Yeah, there," he said, and tilted Rodney's head back, onto his shoulder, away from his neck.

Rodney's eyes were glittering, almost red, his mouth opened slightly to reveal two sharp pointed teeth. Fangs. Rodney had fangs.

"I'd like to see him feast, if possible," Carson asked.

Elizabeth started to object, "I don't think that's wise," but Rodney's head was already burrowing into John's neck. They couldn't see his fangs pierce John's flesh, but they watched as John's eyelashes fluttered shut, dark on his cheeks, his expression pained but beautiful. He stroked Rodney's head and the only sound was the noise of Rodney's swallowing.

"Christ," Caron said reverently, but Elizabeth gave a sharp, "That's enough." John's "Rodney" was woozy, but his grip was firm, tugging on Rodney's short hair. Rodney withdrew his fangs from John's neck, licking at the spots of blood on John's skin and his own lips.

Rodney's eyes were blank and unfocused, while John's skin was pale. John swayed, and Rodney helped him lie down, picking up his feet and putting them on the hospital bed, as Carson took his pulse. "I think I should give him some blood. He's lost a lot." Giving instructions to the nurse, Carson worked to insert an IV in John's arm.

Elizabeth watched Rodney as much as John. The Major seemed physically tired, but Rodney's mind was clearly in a different world, preoccupied only with John, not concerned with whatever impression Elizabeth and Carson might make of this scene. "John, how are you doing?"

"I'm fine. A little tired. I could use some food."

"I'll get you some," Rodney offered.

Elizabeth stopped him, putting a hand on his arm. "Rodney, do you even know what you just did?"

Rodney's eyes slid away from Elizabeth's. "I'll get him some food." He turned abruptly and left the infirmary, one of his hands sliding down John's bare chest as he walked away, not apparently caring that he was still shirtless.

"John, this has to be dealt with."

"I know. Just … let me recover a little bit, okay?"

"Okay," Elizabeth agreed, not understanding what was happening between the two men, but respecting John enough to accept he needed to be involved. She stepped away from the bed, giving Carson plenty of room to work, and commed on her earpiece. "Ford," she said, waiting for the Lieutenant's response. "Find Rodney and keep an eye on him. He should be heading from the infirmary to the cafeteria. Something may have happened to him on that planet. No, don't detain him. Just watch him. Be casual."

She looked back at John, relieved to see the resignation in his eyes. He may have bonded to this strange vampiric Rodney, but his loyalty first and foremost was to Atlantis.

~~~~

Rodney took the glass, swirling the red fluid inside. The idea was revolting, drinking blood. He wasn't some kind of vampire. So he'd just gotten a little carried away and took a bite from John. Even John had agreed it was hot. Wasn't really good sex supposed to be like that? Out of control, a little wild? Tentatively, he took a sip, and promptly spit it out. Carson stood his ground, letting the blood splotch on his white jacket. "That's revolting!"

"It's just blood, Rodney. The preliminary test results indicated that your system may now need blood to survive."

"I can't drink this!"

"Fine. Then keep eating regular food. But I want a report if you have any problem digesting it."

Rodney gave Carson his best impatient glare, but the doctor proved impervious. Damn doctors. Like they truly thought they understood people, when everyone knew medical science was frequently guesswork. People were simply too irrational, bodily systems too complex to diagnose problems accurately. "Fine," he snapped, stalking out.

Ford was lingering outside the infirmary, and started to talk to him, but Rodney stormed past him, walking toward the control center. He had to find John.

~~~~

Getting chewed out by Elizabeth was so much worse than being yelled at by a military officer. True, the volume was generally lower, and the swearwords more limited and less colorful, but the "you've really let me down" part was so incredibly disheartening. He'd become rather impervious to "Christ, Sheppard you're a fuck up," but "John, I rely on you," always hit him hard.

He sat across the conference room and took it, quietly, respectfully. With his military superiors, he'd often thought a good chewing out was mostly a way to establish dominance, to piss on the subordinate officer and remind him of his place. But for Elizabeth, it was truly about letting him know the standards of conduct she expected.

She was winding down, giving him that intent look that said she was ready for his apologetic reply, when Rodney stormed in. "Do you know what Carson tried to make me do?" The words were addressed to John, but he let Elizabeth reply.

"Yes, Rodney, I do. We both do."

Rodney stared at Elizabeth, as if he hadn't expected to find her there. "It's revolting."

"Then eat regular food, Rodney. And if the test results say you need supplemental blood, you will go to the infirmary and get some from Carson. I'm sure he can put it in you through an IV."

"No. If I need blood, I'll get it from John."

"You will not drink from John. You will leave him alone," Elizabeth commanded sternly. She stood as she spoke, and John restrained the impulse to wince. She wasn't going to win a pissing contest with Rodney. Rodney didn't appreciate when he needed to back down at the best of times, and this wasn't the best of times.

"What do you want me to do, Elizabeth? Don't you understand?" Rodney waved both his hands at John, who stayed sitting across the conference table and seemed very involved in looking at his own hands. "He's prime rib, okay? Prime rib. With creamy horseradish sauce. And those little new potatoes. You're asking me to subsist on McDonald's."

Elizabeth's voice was more cutting than John had ever heard. "I thought you didn't need blood to survive."

"Well … no." Rodney looked confused. "But if I do, I need to get it from John."

"Because he's prime rib? Well, how about a little ground chuck once in a while? Perhaps a nice pot roast?" Elizabeth's eyes brightened with her anger. "You're endangering his life, Rodney. His life. And when you endanger his life, you're endangering all of Atlantis."

John cut in finally, because Rodney was staring at him again, looking like he was ready to expound further on John's tastiness, and John really didn't think Elizabeth was in the mood to hear it. "Don't exaggerate, Elizabeth. A few ounces won't kill me. And Atlantis would survive without me."

"Would we? I wish I could be as certain of that." Elizabeth faced Rodney again. "You will drink the blood that Doctor Beckett has. I don't care if you like it or not, you will drink as much as you need to survive. And you will leave Sheppard alone. Do you understand me, Rodney?"

Rodney opened his mouth, from his expression intending to argue, but he fell silent as Elizabeth began talking to her earpiece.

"Yes, Doctor, what is it? Is he okay? Are you sure it was Rodney? Thank you, Doctor. Keep me informed." She waited a beat, then said, "Lieutenant Ford is in the infirmary."

"And Rodney put him there?" John had to ask, because Rodney just seemed perplexed.

"Ford tried to talk to him outside the infirmary, and Rodney threw him against the wall."

"Is he okay?"

"He got the wind knocked out of him. Carson says there's no broken bones."

"Good," John said with relief. Ford was one of his best men, his constant support. How would he deal with it, if Rodney had done more to him? "Look, we have to go back to the planet. We need to find out what caused this and cure it."

"I think the more important issue is why Rodney attacked Ford."

"I didn't … " Rodney leaned on a chair, his hands gripping the arms. "He was outside the infirmary. I needed to get to John. I walked by him. That's all."

"Elizabeth, we have to get Rodney cured. We can deal with other issues later. Carson doesn't know what's causing this. We need more intel. Rodney and I can go back to the planet. We'll talk to the villagers. They must know what's happening. If we have to, we'll track down that guy, that creature."

"Are you sure that's wise? Taking Rodney?"

"I am still here, people!"

John ignored Rodney. Convincing Elizabeth was more important than dealing with Rodney's ego and erratic behavior. He focused his voice and body language on convincing her, his tone intent, his body leaning forward. "I don't know if it's wise, but I think it's necessary. Elizabeth … you may be on the edge of losing both Rodney and me."

Rodney snapped, "It's not going to come to that!"

Elizabeth's indecision was clear, her gaze shifting between the two men, but then John breathed an internal sigh of relief when he could see in her eyes that she decided to believe in his judgment. "Very well. I'll have a jumper prepped. Who do you want on your team?"

The question threw John for a moment. "Teyla and O'Connor, but only on a volunteer basis." If he couldn't have Ford, at least O'Connor had the Ancient gene and could fly them home if the mission went bad. "And Carson, if he will come." Carson hated missions, but John knew he would say yes, the doctor in him outweighing the fear.

"Very well. I'm going to trust you to handle this." Elizabeth nodded and left. John relaxed back in the chair, and reached over to tug at Rodney's hand, pulling the scientist toward him. Rodney came, leaning with one hip on the table as John scooted his chair, placing one leg on each side of Rodney.

"I didn't hurt Ford."

"Ford had orders to stay with you. He would have followed you here and been outside the conference room if someone hadn't hurt him. If it wasn't you, who was it?"

"I don't … " Rodney shook his head in confusion. "I remember he was outside the infirmary. But I walked past him."

"Rodney, face the facts. Ford got in the way and you slammed him aside. This thing is affecting your brain, your body, your memory. You need blood. You need me. And no matter what orders Elizabeth gives you, you're not going to stop feasting on me."

Rodney looked at him sideways, like he was too ashamed to face John directly. "She doesn't understand what it's like. But I'd never hurt you. I'd never take too much."

"Rodney … " John placed one of scientist's hands on his neck, tilting his head to brush against it. "I could barely stop you in the infirmary. I didn't want to stop you, even with Elizabeth and Carson watching."

With one fingertip, Rodney traced the outline of the bruise on John's throat, the touch making John's skin tingle.

"Rodney!" That jerked the scientist out of his preoccupation, and he looked at John, his eyes clearer. "You're not yourself, and you're affecting me. Do you understand? I don't know if you could stop yourself from taking everything, and I don't know if I would want to," John said ruefully, surprised that his ego wasn't more wounded. Having Rodney hold him against the wall and feast on him had been scary as hell. He'd never once dreamed that the scientist could be a physical match for him, much less a danger. But there it was, the truth of the matter. Rodney was stronger than him, and Rodney was going to stay that way as long as he was infected by this disease or bug or whatever the hell it had been.

What if Rodney lost control and kept drinking? How good would it feel, to surrender to him? He didn't share Elizabeth's belief that Atlantis would be doomed without him. But without both him and Rodney? Maybe. Either way, he owed the people of Atlantis his best to keep both of them functioning.

"I don't want to lose you."

"We can still have sex." It was risky, daring the blood lust to emerge, but he gave Rodney a look, a burning look of desire, satisfied to see the other man flush. "But we didn't ask for this whole thing with the fangs. The guy who attacked you on the planet did this to you. Now we're gonna shove it back at him, okay?"

Rodney nodded, his expression a little scared. "Am I really out of control?"

"Yeah. You're out of control and you're erratic as hell. Even for you," he added, in an attempt to introduce a little levity to the scene. He didn't appear to have been successful, as Rodney continued to look both lost and aroused. Which would really be a good look for him, John mused, if he hadn't started tossing soldiers into walls.

Biting his lip, Rodney gazed down at himself. "I can't go out there like this."

Yeah, Rodney's reactions were definitely out of proportion. Flattering, but out of proportion. "Don't worry." John opened the front of Rodney's trousers, just enough to coax his erection out, taking it into his mouth. What had seemed so weird and unusual, what … the week before last? Now it seemed perfectly normal, so sexy to see how he could make Rodney horny with just a glance. He sucked and licked, feeling Rodney's hands in his hair, listening to Rodney's panting and mumbling disjointed words until the bitter taste of come flooded his mouth.

Rodney took one of his hands, carried it to his mouth, kissing his palm and raking one fang over the pad of his thumb, light enough to score but not to break the skin. John shuddered, and willed his dick down, concentrating on Ford in the infirmary. He had to be the strong one now. No one in Atlantis could suffer for his sex life. Pulling his hand back, he did up Rodney's trousers and gave him a final hard kiss. "Let's go kick some alien butt."

~~~

The puddle jumper lifted off and glided easily through the gate under John's capable hands. Rodney sat behind John, staring at the top of his head over the pilot's chair, wishing that he had more time to think.

Thinking had always been Rodney's forte, his strong point, analyzing data and creating theories. But lately his mental strength was disappointing him, the not-Rodney making his mind fuzzy. He tried to think and all that came to his mind was the taste of John's mouth, the feel of John's strong body, and John's scent, a mixture of aftershave, spent ammunition, and the sea air.

No, don't think, he told himself. Thinking led back to John. John, who along with Elizabeth, had rushed the prep for this mission, obviously intent on finding some way to cure Rodney quickly. John who was afraid of Rodney, afraid Rodney would lose control and kill him.

Now there was a particularly odd thought, Rodney as a threat. No one had ever considered Rodney dangerous. His classmates had mostly ignored or scorned him. His friends were all fellow geeks, who were challenged by his intellect but not in a fearful way. When he'd fallen into working with the military, the soldiers mostly treated him with a distant professional rudeness.

But not John. John treated him as an important member of Atlantis. John had dropped to his knees and sucked Rodney off in front of strangers, then held Rodney, hiding his expression as Rodney came unglued. John had shared amazing alien sex toy enhanced pleasure with Rodney. John had let Rodney hold him against a wall and drink his blood.

Flicking his tongue in his mouth, Rodney could feel the fangs emerging, his teeth lengthening. So there was the rub. Think of John and sex and blood and surrender to the not-Rodney. Be a vampire. Be like the wraith, draining the life from someone. Drain the life from John … John who trusted him. John who cared for him, who sucked him off in the conference room even after Rodney compared him to prime rib. No, Rodney wasn't going to be that person.

But he had to think, because he was Rodney and that was his value. So think, not of John, but of the other man. The memories were fuzzy, like so many of his thoughts. They'd arrived on the planet, and flown some distance to the village. Teyla hadn't been able to tell them much about the planet's people. Semi-nomadic and agrarian, kept from technological advancement by the Wraith's periodic culling, much like Teyla's people. Not overly friendly but willing to make a decent trade, and Teyla thought it would be worth their time to say hello, 'we're new to the galaxy, what's up with you?'

He'd started talking to one of them, a man who had reminded him of John, tall and dark-haired, not quite as lean and a little broader across the shoulders. A comment had come out, he couldn't even remember what it was, something about the people's lack of technology. The man had asked him a question in response. Normally, Rodney didn't tell people how to improve their technology. Not that there was some weird Prime Directive holding him back, only the sheer practicality that too much of the Pegasus Galaxy needed to be brought up to speed, and Rodney didn't have the time. But the man's superficial resemblance to John encouraged Rodney to talk further, rambling about basic improvements that could be made.

They'd drifted outside, away from the others, and the man had made a comment, an odd remark. What had it been? "You would benefit my people. You must stay with us." His eyes gleamed, turning red, and the fuzziness had started, the desire to do what the man wanted, but the rejection and the fight too, because the man was like John, but he wasn't John. Rodney had said no, and tried to return to the others, but the man had slashed his own wrist, holding it to Rodney's mouth, trying to make him drink. Rodney had gagged and spat, but he couldn't stop an involuntary swallow, and then John and the others had arrived, firing their rifles to protect him.

"The villagers aren't going to help us." The jumper was already coming to land outside of the village. Rodney spoke fast. "They have to know about him. Who he is, what he is."

John guided the jumper to a soft landing. "And what is he? A vampire?"

"As a general term to use, yes. He fits some of the classic archetypes, the feasting on blood, the mesmeric ability. He's fast and strong. But we saw him in daylight."

"Is he gonna need a stake through the heart to kill him?"

"Look, this isn't my area of specialty. I'm into science fiction, not horror. But no, I don't think so."

"You got any advice on how to handle him?"

"He thinks of the villagers as his people, and they feel the same. We need to get him alone."

"Is he arrogant enough to let that happen?"

Rodney remembered the casual way the man had assumed he could claim Rodney for his people. Like Rodney could be brought over, made to abandon John and Elizabeth and the rest. "Yes. Definitely."

"Good."

~~~~

John kept every muscle loose, relaxed. Their adversary would recognize them as soldiers – the rifles made it a little hard to miss – but he had to underestimate them. John remembered the feeling of flying through the air before, when the guy had given him one backhanded blow. They needed every advantage, particularly surprise and coordination. The moment came, and John glanced at Teyla. He moved, she moved, O'Connor moved. Carson and Rodney gaped. With her stick, Teyla knocked his feet out from under him and threw herself on his legs, O'Connor landed on his torso as he fell, giving him a few good blows to the midsection and holding down his right arm, and John took the left arm and head, one knee trapping the arm, the other knee digging into the fellow's throat, his 9 mil pointed straight at his head.

"I figure it this way. You've got three options. You can cure Rodney, you can come back to Atlantis so we can take you apart and figure out what makes you tick, or I can put 9 slugs in your head, and we'll see how good your healing powers are. I'm guessing they're not quite that good."

The fellow was amused, in that same scary way that Rodney had been last night. "You would kill for him. You would defend him to your last breath."

"You've got five seconds to decide."

"He would have killed you. Ultimately, he wouldn't have been able to help himself. We always kill what we love the most. It is our curse."

"Five."

"Major, I don't think – "

"Shut up, Carson. Four."

"Rodney, you're not going to let – "

Carson was clearly freaking out, which was good, John figured. It helped the illusion that John would kill this man in cold blood. If it was an illusion. "Three." He cocked his pistol, placing the tip of the barrel directly on the man's forehead. "Two." This was going to be messy as hell, another bloody day.

"Very well."

"No tricks."

"No tricks." His lips curled. "As you reject the blessing I have bestowed, I will cure your friend and you will leave this planet, never to return."

"See? I knew you could be agreeable." John, Teyla, and O'Connor moved in concert, swinging off the fellow, pistol, rifle, and stick still held at the ready.

The fellow rose smoothly, holding one hand out to Rodney. "Come."

Rodney was nervous, but he stepped forward, taking the man's hand. John raised his pistol, the barrel next to the guy's ear. "One wrong move."

"Oh, please." The guy sounded so much like Rodney, it almost might have been funny, except his arm swept out, knocking John off his feet. Teyla, O'Connor, and Carson all froze. "I will not have my word doubted."

John propped himself on his elbows, struggling for breath. Carson started to kneel by him, but he waved him away, scrabbling for his pistol and rising to his feet, even as the man folded his arms around Rodney's chest, making the scientist lean against him. Rodney's eyes are scared but resigned, and he spoke soundlessly. John had never been that great at lip reading, but he could swear Rodney was mouthing 'I would never have hurt you.' It made his stomach clench, the thought that Rodney was submitting to this man's forced mercy as the best solution out of fear for John, not himself.

"Fine. No doubting your word. You'll cure him. We get it."

The man lowered his head to Rodney's neck and bit. Not ferociously, like he'd attacked Rodney before, but gently, sensually, like Rodney had bit John. Rodney gave a little pained moan, his head falling back on the man's shoulder, his throat arched and exposed. John really wanted to shoot the man on the principle that Rodney shouldn't be swooning in someone else's arms. The man drank, and then spat blood out on the ground.

"You could tell us what you're doing."

"You still don't trust me, do you, Major?"

"It's an occupational hazard."

"The tainted blood must be removed from his system. Both mine … " The man grinned. "And yours, I believe." His head lowered again, fangs resuming their position in Rodney's neck.

John decided he definitely didn't like this guy. He was an arrogant, self-centered ass, too accustomed to being idolized. But as long as he cured Rodney … The fellow drank more, spat more. Carson dared to step forward, checking Rodney's pulse. A third time the man drank, sought out the tainted blood, and removed it from Rodney's system. He released Rodney, who crumpled, barely caught by Carson and Teyla. John and O'Connor stayed at alert, weapons poised.

"Our acquaintance is over now, I believe. Leave my planet."

The man turned and walked away, like he didn't care about the semi-automatics pointed at his back. Relieved, John gestured with his head. Teyla and Carson each slung one of Rodney's arms over their shoulders, helping him walk toward the jumper. John and O'Connor followed. The mission was over, and apparently a success.

~~~~

Elizabeth tried to never randomly check on a mission status. Never, never, ever. It hurt sometimes, the need to ask, but there were deadlines and check-ins and official update times. Her people would tell her what she needed to know when she was due to be told. A leader wasn't supposed to be anxious or fretful.

The best days were when news came long before she'd even thought about stopping herself from fretting by burying herself in the paperwork that would need to be filed whenever they made it home. The gate activated, John's voice coming through her earpiece. "Atlantis, we're on our way home."

"How did the mission go, Major?"

"Mission accomplished, Doctor."

"No one was hurt? No problems?"

"I got slammed down again, and Rodney's lost more blood, but he's supposedly all cured."

"That's good news, Major."

The jumper shot through the gate and landed. Teyla and O'Connor were the first off, followed immediately by Carson and Rodney. Rodney was a little worse for wear, and there was blood again on his shirt, by the neckline, but such a small amount compared to last time. He would need to be reprimanded for attacking Ford, but at least he was alive, and as John stepped out of the jumper and put one hand on his shoulder, Rodney gave an off-centered smile and Elizabeth could tell he was well.

Elizabeth smiled. Despite the daily stresses of having to handle nasty aliens, isolation, and temperamental personalities, sometimes life on Atlantis was just fine.

~~~~

There was a laptop sitting on the table. John kicked off his shoes and sat cross-legged on the bed, opening up the laptop and powering it up. He adjusted to the touch pad as he pulled up the directory, checking to see what Rodney had loaded for him. A surprising number of games were listed – football, basketball, baseball, even some rugby and way too much hockey. He'd have to quiz Rodney more on that poll and how many different kinds of files the scientists had smuggled in. He didn't recognize the names of a few files, clicking on them to realize they were figure skating competitions. Not normally his thing, but hell, nights were long in Atlantis. Pretty people in tight spandex could fill some tedious hours.

The Trek films and a slew of sci-fi classics were on the directory, which didn't surprise John, but Rodney had added some action and western films too. He'd have to see if Ford wanted to borrow these. Ford seemed like the kind of guy who would want to organize a regular movie night, and it was long past time for the scientists to share their stash with the military.

Out of curiosity, John opened the music file, to find it fully loaded too. Rodney obviously thought John was a die-hard rock fan from the 60s and early 70s. Good choices really, the kind of music that he'd known from his childhood. Ah … there was "Ring of Fire," which would have to be played many, many times, because he loved that song. Still, it would be fun to see if Rodney could find something for him that wasn't appropriate for a Vietnam film soundtrack.

The music file had one subdirectory, labeled only "personal." John clicked it open, reading the titles. Classical he could tell, but that was about it. Why "personal"? John double clicked, letting the music play, a solo pianist. He was good, whoever he was.

John set the laptop back on the table, letting it play, as he stripped off his clothes, dimmed the lights, and got into bed. A knock on the door didn't surprise him, and he opened it with his mind.

"John?"

"Yeah, Rodney?"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine. And I think I'm the one who should be asking you that." John shuffled in the bed, moving to one side. "Are you going to get undressed and get in?"

Rodney walked forward, the door shutting behind him, the room darkening as the hallway light was lost. "Is it okay? I mean … do you want me to?"

"Your prime rib awaits you."

"Ha. I know you weren't going to let me forget that."

John heard the sound of clothes being removed, but didn't say anything until Rodney got under the sheets. He smiled, tugging Rodney close. "I haven't figured out if that was one of the most flattering or worst descriptions I've ever received."

"I'm sorry for … everything. For hurting Ford, for taking advantage of you."

"It was hardly your fault. You were out of control."

"Oh yes, so lovely to have excuses. I'll slam people around and have sex with my superior because aliens keep making me do it."

"No," John said, rolling Rodney onto his back and covering him. "This time we do it because we want to."

~~~~

There was no hesitation, no doubt, no fangs, no alien sex toys, no alien voyeurs … nothing but John's long, lean body on top of his, John's tongue delving into his mouth, John's hands stroking his skin. This was the moment when Rodney made the choice, the conscious decision to wrap his arms and legs around John, to kiss him back. To arch his hips up, and to reach down, aligning their cocks so they rubbed together as the two men thrust.

Rodney groaned, and John groaned, and Rodney told him how good it felt, how hot it was, to be in bed with John, to feel how strong John was … there was only darkness and heat, soft sheets and even softer skin, powerful muscles that bunched and flexed, and the smell of John and sex until they were both coming, moaning into each other's mouths.

They lay together, side by side for a while, then John moved and Rodney did too, spooning together, gently stroking each other. No excuses, no pretenses, just John and Rodney, cherishing the afterglow of great sex.

"Who's this playing?"

Rodney winced, regretting the mad impulse to put his music on the laptop for John. He could hear the technical precision, the lack of artistic brilliance, and hoped that John couldn't. "Someone I used to know."

"He's good."

"Not as good as he wanted to be."

"Coulda fooled me. Now go to sleep. It's been a long few days."

"Okay," Rodney agreed softly, listening as John's breath evened out. He drifted off to the sound of the piano and John's breath, the remembrance of home and the solid presence of the best part of living in Atlantis.

~ the end ~


	4. The One With the Rescue and the Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys adjust to being lovers in a closed society. And there's a rescue and a dance, 'cuz this series is about clichés.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to Cleito for giving me the scene that started the plot and the eagle-eyed beta, to Kimberlite for her thorough beta and reassuring hand holding, and to Fenris_Wolf for solidifying a line of thought.

Morning had never been Rodney’s favorite time of the day. His tendency was to work late into the night, crash hard, sleep heavily, and stagger from bed, semi-comatose until he’d drunk several cups of coffee. But mornings had never involved the warm body of John Sheppard under the covers with him, long fingers stroking his sides as John’s agile tongue lapped at his nipples. He murmured sleepily, not opening his eyes, his hands searching out John’s thick hair, burying themselves in the silky mess, and petting.

He felt John’s body shifting, scooting up to lie on top of his, then that heady sensation of two bodies aligned from chest to groin, skin and muscles pressed tight together. John’s legs tucked between his, and his hips thrust leisurely on Rodney’s. Rodney could feel the weight of John’s forearms on each side of his head, as John’s lips captured his own in long, sustained kisses. It was so pleasant and relaxing, the heat slowly growing in his body, a lovely early morning with nothing to do but shift against John's hard, lean body and learn more about how damned good his mouth tasted. But then the flame began burning too fiercely, red, orange and yellow sparks lighting up Rodney's nerves, and merely petting John’s hair wasn’t enough. He grabbed onto John’s butt, grinding him urgently down as he thrust up, squeezing John’s legs between his thighs, and kissing him with desperate, frantic need.

And then it was even better, hot and dirty and gasping and sweating, hard cocks sliding together, until John shuddered in his arms, and he groaned, feeling his own muscles quake and spasm, and wetness flow over his belly.

Yes, morning had definitely improved. In fact, it might even become his favorite time of day.

"Your superior, huh?"

"My what?" Rodney mumbled, too satiated to make sense of John’s words.

"You said aliens kept making you have sex with your superior."

John’s tone was laced with satisfaction, making Rodney’s eyes snap open. John’s face was almost too close. Rodney could see his expression, the cocky tilt to his grin, the small flecks of brown in the green of his bright eyes, all in exquisite detail like through a perfectly focused telescope. "My team leader. Team member."

"Uh huh. That's not what you said yesterday."

"Oh, you conceited – " And then John was kissing him again, hotly, wetly, and his body shouldn't be that interested again so soon, but it was, curse it. But John's lips separated from his, and Rodney heard himself give a little embarrassing moaning whine as John leapt off the bed and disappeared into the next room with a brief, "I'll be late." Rodney heard the shower start, and briefly contemplated joining him, but no, morning wasn't quite yet his favorite time, his body hadn't gotten worked up enough to force him from the bed, and the warm sheets, spiced with John's scent and the musk of sex, lured him back to sleep.

"Look, we should have talked more last night. You know we have to live with 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell'?"

Rodney started awake again, wiped his face to make sure he hadn't drooled, and nodded, watching with regret as John's naked body disappeared under black pants and a black t-shirt. "Yes, your absurd American military homophobia," he muttered without heat because he was watching John dress and complaining about misguided nonsense didn't seem worth the energy.

"Thanks. It's already going to be interesting enough when we get in contact with Earth again, explaining how I shot my mission commander." John flashed him a lopsided twist of his lips, an expression laced with regret, not humor. His hair was still slightly damp, and he ran his fingers through it, making it somehow both spike up and flop around at the same moment in time, before sitting down on the bed. After pulling on his socks and shoes, he leaned over to give Rodney another toe-curling kiss, then dropped the life signs detector on the bed. "Check that the corridor is empty before you leave." Crossing to the doorway, he stopped and said with gloating satisfaction, "Superior." This time the lopsided expression was a definite grin.

Rodney threw a pillow at him, but John had already ducked out of the bedroom, and the pillow hit the closing doors.

~~~

Saving the Athosians had been the only decision he could make at the time, and had definitely turned out to have advantages. Though they knew more sophisticated technology existed, they were fairly content to live an agrarian existence. It was, after all, the only lifestyle they had been allowed to develop, due to the periodic culling of the Wraith. They were grateful to know that the Earth team would protect them from the Wraith as much as was feasible, and happy to settle on the mainland, setting up farms, finding the best places to hunt, and creating new lives for themselves.

More importantly, in John's opinion, the Athosians were pleased to offer food in exchange for protection and the technological help the Stargate expedition offered. MREs were good as a basic, easily portable staple, but a hot breakfast was even better, John thought, contemplating the eggs, bacon, and toast on his plate. Okay, the yokes in the eggs were rather large, the bacon was an unusual shade of brown, and the bread wasn't the correct size to fit in a sandwich bag, but then sandwich bags probably didn't exist in the Pegasus Galaxy anyway. The important thing was it was food and it was warm, two criteria that John had learned to appreciate greatly. "Hey, Ford," he said, as the Lieutenant approached him.

"Major." The Lieutenant put his tray on the table and sat down next to him.

"I think I could get used to hot meals," John said happily, taking a bite of the bacon and chewing. "And sooner or later to the taste, too," he added, because whatever this crispy strip of meat was, it hadn't come from a pig.

Rodney was drifting around the room that they'd organized as a mess, and John jerked his head, signaling him to come over. "Doctor," he and Ford both said, as Rodney took a chair. "So, Ford," he asked casually, "Have the Athosians come with names for all the new foods? 'Cuz I was thinking with the size of these yokes, they could just be Superior Eggs."

Rodney glowered, but didn't directly respond to John's statement, instead diving into a discussion of his plans for the day, the research he intended to do in the lab since no mission was scheduled. And wow – John knew Rodney was intelligent, perhaps even as intelligent as he claimed, but he'd never realized that scientific technobabble was so much his specialty. But then, Rodney was usually attempting to explain something to him or Elizabeth, and this time, clearly, he was determined that John wouldn't understand one single solitary word. Rodney would make a great professor, one of those guys who scared off most of the undergrads in his first lecture because he thought his time and energy should be focused on the best and brightest. John ate his breakfast, listening raptly as Rodney pontificated, enjoying his enthusiasm and the complexity of his words, and kicked Ford under the table when the Lieutenant shifted in his chair and made motions like he wanted to escape.

Rodney's diatribe on his important work finally slammed to a sudden stop, as if Rodney was ready to give John a chance to respond. John waited a beat, and said, "Cool. That sounds fascinating. You'll have to update me on your research later on." Just like he'd understood every word that Rodney said and was fascinated. Rodney glared, and picked up his empty tray, because the man could eat as fast as he could talk, and stomped off.

"Sir…is there something I should know? Dr. McKay seems kinda stressed." The addition of the words 'even for him' hung in the air.

John took a sip of his coffee – real coffee, and he agreed with Rodney, they definitely needed to find a good replacement before supplies ran out – and contemplated what to say. "You know that McKay and I have had some…involvement due to external causes." There, that sounded much more politic than 'McKay and I have had some amazingly hot sex.'

"Yes, sir."

"McKay's a scientist. He's worked with the military a long time, but he's never been much on the frontlines until this year. He hasn't really had to accept that bad things could happen to him personally. It's going to take him some time to put these experiences behind him." Christ, particularly since they were going to keep doing it willingly, he was never going to let Rodney put it all behind him, and he couldn't believe he was lying to Ford. Ford, for Christ's sake, his main support. Don't Ask, Don't Tell sucked. "He's a little twitchy around me."

Ford's fingers tapped a little on the table, indicating his nervousness. "Sir, I think you should know that there's been gossip. But neither Teyla nor I talked about what happened on PKS-331. Or what started on the mainland."

Elizabeth had already warned him about the gossip, but John didn't mention that, wanting to hear Ford's version of what people were saying. "I know. You and Teyla are my team. You have my implicit trust, Lieutenant."

The reassurance seemed to help loosen Ford's tongue. "People saw you and McKay going to your quarters, sir. And I guess one of the medical staff talked about the fangs, and having to do tests on both of you."

Well, there was a new item to add to his mental to-do list, talk to Carson about his staff's discretion. Not that it was wholly unexpected. People _talked_ , particularly civilians in weird, scary circumstances, they simply had to or the confusion and fear would be paralyzing. Ideally, though, he and Rodney just really needed to have nice, normal, planned sex. It would be so much easier to hide. "And what do people think about the gossip?"

"A lot of people respect you."

Not McKay of course, McKay's arrogance and bluntness hadn't endeared him to very many. "But?" he prompted, because the Lieutenant was clearly so dying to talk. Sometimes people's needs could be helpful.

"You weren't involved with the expedition until just before we left, sir. And it's gotten around that you shot Colonel Sumner. And you're a pilot, sir."

A pilot? What the hell was wrong with being a pilot? Flying was the best thing that had ever happened to him. But…oh yeah, it meant he'd spent a lot of time in the air while the regular grunts were on the ground. Soldiers did tend to resent pilots, writing them off as worthless flyboys until they had their butts saved at the last minute by a pilot taking insane risks. And he was a Johnny-Come-Lately who'd killed the established leader and was now fucking a civilian. Or actually, so far, getting fucked by a civilian, not that that distinction would help matters. "So there's a certain level of distrust in my leadership."

"A few troublemakers, sir. That's all."

A few? He hoped so, hoped that his actions as military commander during the troubles they'd already faced on Atlantis had earned him respect, despite the black marks against him. "Thank you for letting me know about this. On another subject," he picked up the laptop from the unused chair and handed it over, "it turns out the scientists have been holding out on us."

"Sir?"

"They managed to cram a lot more than one personal file onto their laptops. Here's some of what they brought, though I don't think it's all of it. Get it downloaded where everyone can access it, and see if you can get the rest from them. Start with Zelenka. He's usually approachable."

"This is fantastic, sir. I'll take care of it." Ford grinned, making John happy that Rodney had confessed to the violation of the one-item rule. They'd been too isolated and too long away from Earth. Everyone needed diversion, recreation, and Ford was the kind of guy who'd be a great social organizer.

"But Ford – not the music files on the subdirectory labeled 'personal.' Leave those."

Ford clearly wanted to question Sheppard on what made those files special, but Sheppard gave his best 'I'm the boss and don't ask' face, and Ford didn't. John had never yearned for power, only for the rank that would allow him to fly the fastest planes and most interesting missions, but sometimes being in charge was useful, to be able to draw that subtle line the conscientious wouldn't cross. "What should I tell people about all these files?"

"Just say we're compiling all the personal items for sharing. Space it out a bit if you can. I don't want resentment that the scientists have been hoarding."

"Yes, sir. I'll get right to it." Ford took his laptop and tray, leaving Sheppard sipping the last of his coffee and contemplating how he was going to handle the malcontents among the soldiers. Something unconventional, something that would help him identify which ones they were, something that would let them purge their aggression, but respect him more. A tall order perhaps, but compared to fighting the Wraith, it seemed like an easy one to fill.

~~~~

People were disappearing, and Rodney hated that he didn't know why. There was whispering, and the next time he looked around, someone else was gone, presumably on a break. He had never tried to impose normal working hours, regarding the concept as ridiculous. These people were here because they wanted to make great discoveries; their trips to the toilet didn't need to be timed. But still, it was rather disconcerting, having the labs become deserted in the middle of the morning by both scientists and techs, until there was only Kavanagh and him.

"Where is everyone?" he finally snapped at Kavanagh, who smirked.

"Not in the loop, McKay? I thought you knew everything."

Rodney didn't bother bickering further with Kavanagh, stomping out of the lab. Wherever the others had gone, he'd bet his future Nobel Prize that they'd all gone to the same place, making a visible cluster of people. He pulled the life signs detector out of his pocket, blessing that he hadn't tried to slip it back to John at breakfast.

Yes, there, in one of the grand lobbies that they'd speculated might have been a public meeting place for the Ancients. And from the number of life signs, soldiers were there too. Rodney approached the lobby from the second floor, where the detector showed a ring of people standing around the landing.

The door swooshed open and yes, there were his missing scientists and lab techs, completely uninterested in his arrival, all of them intently focused on whatever was happening on the first floor. Rodney joined them, craning his head over to see what had everyone so fascinated.

Objects had been scattered on different places on the floor, a couple of mattresses, some chairs tangled together, a pile of military webbing, a stack of crates. In the middle of the floor were John and a few of the soldiers, while the other soldiers were lining the walls. They were unarmed, except for John, who carried a set of the Athosian sticks. They were engaged in some sort of military game, Rodney supposed, darting back and forth in the obstacle course, occasionally punching each other, John moving the fastest of all, his black shirt drenched with sweat as he dodged blows and darted to other locations.

Rodney leaned over the railing, and all he could think was, 'I fucked that, that long, lean, glorious, athletic creature.' That first unsettling time, John lying on his back, pulling his legs up for Rodney's entrance, and Rodney had felt what John felt, their senses bound together by the Ancient device. Then later, when he'd sunk his teeth into John's neck and drunk, the taste of his blood better and sweeter than any wine ever bottled by man, and then John had laid down on the bed, and let Rodney prep him and fuck him. Hard, really hard, and John had moaned and groaned and squirmed, his fingers clenching in the sheets, his ass thrusting back into Rodney's hips.

Oh god, he was going to become aroused, standing here thinking about sex with John. Rodney blessed his lab coat, letting it dangle loosely around him, and turned his attention away from John and to the created environment on the bottom level. He could see that the conglomeration of objects had been carefully planned, and John used them all at different times, the mattresses for falling on, allowing him to roll away, the stack of crates to duck behind, the webbing and the chairs to trip people on. Of course, John was a pilot; he had almost perfect balance and a supernatural awareness of the objects around him, whether they were fighter planes or Wraith darts or physical objects.

It took longer for Rodney to realize that it wasn't just John and the soldiers; it was John _against_ the soldiers. He tried to figure out the rules, a mental exercise that proved unexpectedly frustrating for someone who could do game theory in his sleep. Obviously there was safe areas, times when people couldn't move, times when a soldier could attack and times when he couldn't. The only absolute Rodney could determine was that John never attacked first but was resolute in his own defense. He finally realized that Christ, it was some madcap physical game of fizzbin, John changing the rules as it suited him, as he needed to in order to avoid getting beaten up.

Rodney wanted to leave then, return to the lab and go back to work, try not to think of John getting hit or punched by his own men. Watching John take the lead, put himself first into danger, was bad enough on missions. He could tell that his staff had become aware of his presence and it was making some of them fidget. A few who tended to be most cowed by his sharp tongue vanished. But he couldn't leave, couldn't look away, couldn't do anything but watch John run and swing the stick and duck blows and call out orders to change the ground rules and the participants.

They stopped finally, after too many hours of Rodney feeling tense and barely able to breath. John called his men into a cluster around him. Rodney couldn't hear what he was saying, the Ancient acoustics being irritatingly too good, but he could see John's leadership qualities in the way he spoke, and the respect on the faces of his men. There were a few comments and then they all left together, undoubtedly heading to the showers. Rodney finally went back to the lab, his stomach still roiling. If he ever felt hungry again, he'd eat a powerbar in his lab.

~~~~

John paced his bedroom, trying to decide what to do. They should have taken time to talk logistics in the morning, but given that Rodney was a Canadian who generally disdained military rules, John had gotten distracted by wanting to cover the Don't Ask, Don't Tell nonsense. Well…and needling Rodney over the 'superior' comment, because that was just fun. And then he'd run out the door, because he always did a round of the main city areas before breakfast, and he didn't want any disruption in his routine that might lead to questioning.

Now he wasn't sure what to do, if he should track Rodney down, if Rodney would come to him, if Rodney would even be ready for bed. He knew the man often worked late in the lab, occasionally falling asleep on one of the tables, rolling off it in the morning, grabbing a cup of coffee and a powerbar, and starting again. His hand hovered over the comm button, wondering who might hear him call. If Rodney were in the lab, would other scientists be around? And even if the other scientists heard him call Rodney, would they connect it with the rumors? Or was he letting the need for secrecy make him ridiculously paranoid?

Hell, he didn't even know if Rodney would want to be with him tonight. Just because they'd had some wild sex didn't mean they had compatible sex drives.

And then the man of his worries walked through the bedroom door, gave him a cool look, and said, "Get undressed and get in bed."

Okay, this was good. Not that Rodney's mood was particularly sexy. His expression seemed rather cranky, and he headed straight into the bathroom and started water running. "Don't I get a kiss?" John called.

"Get undressed," was Rodney's rather snappish response.

John shrugged and obeyed, pulling back the sheets, and lying down, propping his head on his hand and watching the doorway. He could hear Rodney rummaging through his cabinets. Lube, good. Then Rodney emerged with damp towels, gave him a grumpy look, and demanded, "On your stomach."

"Do I get to know what we're doing tonight?" John pouted internally because hey, here he was, naked and sorta Playboy-posed on the bed, Rodney could at least give him a burning look of desire.

"I saw part of your ridiculous exhibition today. I lost half my lab staff to the scent of testosterone and a chance to ogle half-clothed bodies. Don't tell me you're not sore."

Rolling over, John curled his arms around the pillow, twisting his head to watch Rodney. "Massage?" he asked hopefully. Passion would be better, but massage ran a close second.

"Which is more than you deserve," Rodney snapped, but he laid one of the hand towels over John's shoulders, and another along his back. Not as good as a sauna for loosening the muscles, but they were warm and damp, and felt wonderful, the heat soaking into his skin.

John thought at the lights, which obediently dimmed to a low level. "I'm used to that sort of thing, you know."

"Oh yes, your 'superior' physical training, beating up half your staff. Do you realize you could have been seriously hurt?"

Rodney was pulling off one towel, then his hands descended on John's shoulders. And oh…yeah. John had felt Rodney's hands on his body before, knew that they were surprisingly strong for hands that were used mostly for writing and typing and constant emphasis. Fingers covered with oil dug into his muscles, squeezing and stroking and massaging. It hurt at first, because his muscles were more tense and knotted than he'd realized, but Rodney kept working, rubbing the palm of his hand into John's body, caressing with his fingers, until each muscle was limp and relaxed.

"I was in control," John said, not wanting to cause any dissension that might end this massage, because it was fabulous and Rodney had great hands, but needing Rodney to realize that his actions had been carefully considered. No, he wasn't as smart as Rodney, he was never going to be, and Rodney would never understand the military mind, but still…the thought that Rodney might have decided he was an idiot was distasteful.

"I noticed you controlled the variables of the environment, but not every action can be predicted, not in that kind of situation."

"It had to be done."

Rodney placed the towel again on John's shoulders, keeping them warm while he proceeded to his back, sweeping his hands up and down John's spine before starting the determined massaging again. "And the reason for this inanity would be?"

"I shot Sumner. I'm a pilot. I joined the expedition at the last minute." _I had sex with you_ were the words he didn't add, not wanting Rodney to feel he was being blamed. "There are concerns about my leadership."

"So you beat each other up and that makes everything better?"

"It's what they expect, that I show them how tough I am. Besides," he added, "I was never that good at the pissing thing. This was more interesting. Less conventional."

"I'm not even going to ask," Rodney sighed, a response which John found mildly humorous. Scientists certainly had their own version of pissing, even if it involved words and ideas rather than yelling insults and physical demands. They were quiet for a long time, Rodney adjusting the towels, loosening John's muscles, giving equal attention to John's butt, thighs, calves, and feet. His hands were wonderful, massaging John until he felt like an inner tube without any air left in it, limp and floppy. "Turn over."

John was on the verge of sleep, and it almost hurt to wake up enough to turn, but he did. Rodney disappeared, and John fell into a light doze until newly warmed towels were placed on his chest. "I never knew you could do massage."

"I have back problems. I get massages regularly when I can. The technique seems simple enough to duplicate. I'm sure my knowledge of musculature is more comprehensive than that of your average masseuse." Rodney's hands traveled down his arms, working out the knotted muscles in his biceps. "So did your grand scheme work?"

John grunted. "Yeah. I know who my problem people are. The others all respect me more."

"So you went through all those hours of sweating, to identify your Kavanaghs?"

John's lips twitched into a smile. "I thought you only watched part of it." With a glare, Rodney started to rise from the bed, but John's hands caught his wrists, holding his hands flat to John's chest. "I'm sorry, okay?" John said softly, sincerely. "Soldiers aren't like scientists. They're not going to get in a superior's face, not if they can help it. But they can bitch and grumble behind his back and cause a lot of morale problems. And we have enough of those with the threat of the Wraith."

Appearing a little mollified, Rodney flexed his fingers. "I need more oil," he said, and John released his hands. He poured more oil into his palms and continued down John's body, massaging his chest, his taut abdomen, working around the groin, down to his thighs, legs, and feet. John's mind fuzzed out, drifting comfortably, knowing nothing but the sense of well-being created by Rodney's strong hands. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this content, but it was long before he plopped his butt down in a funky chair and blue lights started glowing. He heard Rodney moving around, removing the towels and taking them to the bathroom, the rattle of a drawer as the oil was put away.

"Get undressed?" he asked sleepily.

"Not tonight." The covers were pulled up to his neck, and lips touched his without passion. "I'll see you at breakfast." The lights went completely dark as the doorway opened, and John could hear Rodney walking out. He wanted to protest, but sleep claimed him first.

~~~~~

Rodney woke to the unsatisfied emptiness of his own body and the acceptance that using his own hand to jack off the morning erection was far less exciting than John's hot, lean body grinding against him. But when he reached the control room, John was already there, looking fresh and alert, almost perky, and even Rodney, who wasn't particularly observant about other people's moods or health, realized how drawn and tired John's face and eyes had been lately.

Yes, his decision to leave last night had definitely been the right one, he thought smugly, helping John to a good night's sleep. And tonight, he was sure, John would be happy to show his appreciation for Rodney's magnanimous gesture.

Those thoughts had to be pushed to the side though, as Ford and Teyla walked in and Elizabeth gave a last-minute mission briefing. Which wasn't much really, as they had little information on the planet, just a gate address that worked and a hope that something there would prove valuable. Their needs were so many – a ZPM, allies against the Wraith, food – that every planet was worth at least a cursory review.

The wormhole formed, the beautiful watery silver surface that Rodney had loved from the very first time he'd seen it, and he followed John through, with Teyla and Ford close on his heels. And look! Hey, it was another beautiful planet, the Stargate in the middle of a meadow ringed by tall trees with mountains in the distance, with absolutely no evidence of any civilization in sight. It was the Wraith's fault, definitely. The routine cullings kept most worlds at a state of early development, leaving the Pegasus Galaxy full of planets with lovely forests but few big cities - Rodney's personal idea of hell.

Rodney checked the DHD as the other three spread out, looking for signs of a trail that would indicate the presence of people. "DHD is good," Rodney said, and turned his attention to his scanner, seeking energy signals. The others always walked with rifles ready, and it took the little snick of one being cocked to make Rodney look up, realizing that they'd been completely surrounded by natives. Not, of course, Rodney mourned, technologically advanced natives, but ones wearing leather and fur and carrying big spears and arrows.

"The Wraith! The Wraith have come!" The lead guy was as tall as John, but more solidly built, with a huge damn spear in his hands. One spear couldn't cause the amount of damage that a P-90 could, but the moron native probably couldn't realize the incredible lethalness of an automatic rifle.

And really, one spear in his chest would do a whole lot of damage. Rodney scrambled for his pistol, pulling it from the holster, and aiming at the closest native. Christ, he hated these kinds of beginnings, really hated them.

"We're not the Wraith," John answered calmly, but his rifle was held high, pointed straight at the natives nearest to him. "We're explorers. We'd like to be friends."

"Only the Wraith come through the great circle!"

"You don't believe that, or you'd already be trying to kill us," John said, his tone still even.

The native shook his spear angrily at John, as if he thought the intimidation would stop John from contradicting him. "We will kill all Wraith who come to our world."

"We do the same thing. We don't like the Wraith. We're not fond of having our lives sucked out of us."

Rodney was tempted to roll his eyes. Maybe the next time John started making cracks about his 'superior' comment, he'd concede that John won in the 'patience with stupidity' category. Because this native clearly would have been called a moron five times by now if Rodney were in charge of diplomacy.

"If you are not the Wraith, who are you?"

"We're from a place called Atlantis. Heard of it?"

"We know only the Wraith."

"Well there's lots of other worlds out there, with other decent people on them. And we're some of them."

"You are not the Wraith?"

Oh for – morons, morons, and morons. He hated this most of all, the sudden fear twisting his gut, then veering into impatience. Rodney holstered his gun, marched over in front of the head native, stepping to the side so he was too close for the guy to put his spear in Rodney's chest. "Look, we are not the Wraith, get it? Wraith, bad guys. We're good guys. Are you in charge? Because we need to speak to the head guy, your tribal chief or shaman or leader guy. Who clearly had better not be you. Get it?"

The native let the tip of his spear dip to the ground. "Kellek is our leader."

"Fine, let's go talk to Kellek." He glanced at John, who quirked a smile at him, signaling he was fine with Rodney taking over. At least this trip was likely to be brief, and they could get back to Atlantis, where Rodney could take charge of John in more interesting ways.

~~~~

Kellek proved to be an apparently genial old fellow, white haired but with the posture and body of an ex-warrior who kept himself in shape. His eyebrows were sharply rounded, and John guessed that when they'd been black, they'd made him look vaguely Satanic.

They went through the normal meet and greet, John feeling generally pleased with himself and his growing comfort with the whole intergalactic diplomat thing. Kellek seemed receptive, chatting a little about his people, their culture, and possible resources that they could trade, but he did persist in returning the subject frequently to the Wraith. Their mutual enemy wasn't a subject John particularly wanted to discuss because, Christ, he could see these people would be defenseless in the event of a culling, and there wasn't anything he could do to help them. He was pretty doubtful that they'd be able to defend Atlantis herself if the Wraith attacked, a worry he tried very hard not to let control him.

So he smiled and nodded and made nice conversation and kept trying to drag the topic back to their extra food resources, until Kellek insisted on displaying the skills of their warriors. They all tromped over to the field next to the village and dutifully watched the warriors drill. There was a primal beauty about them, bronzed muscled bodies moving gracefully, showing off their attacks and defenses, using a variety of spears and knives.

Despite the spectacle in front of him, John found his gaze drifting frequently to Rodney. The scientist certainly wasn't bronzed and muscled. In fact, his fair skin was beginning to pink up, which Rodney must have realized, because he dug in his jacket pockets until he found sunscreen, dabbing it on his cheeks and nose, apparently oblivious to John's regard.

It was kinda funny in a way, how dissimilar he and Rodney were, and yet how well they got along, even to the point where John could tell from Rodney's face what he was thinking. Of course, maybe that was less John's ability to think like Rodney and more Rodney's inability to dissemble and hide his thoughts from his expression. One look at Rodney's face and John didn't need to be a psychic to know that Rodney was thinking these people were complete and utter morons.

Rodney's silent judgment was harsh and not one that John accepted. They weren't morons. They were, however, completely delusional since they seriously seemed to believe they could fight the Wraith. Kellek moved among the warriors, calling out tactics, and proclaiming how they would use each maneuver to bring down a Wraith soldier. With their spears and arrows and hand-to-hand training and stealth tactics, they thought they could take on life-sucking space vampires and win. Christ. No, not inherently stupid, but absurdly naïve.

"Seriously, have you ever seen anything like this?" he asked Teyla softly as they watched the drill.

"No, Major, I have not. Most races in the Pegasus Galaxy train to fight the Wraith, but from what Kellek is saying, these people do not appear to know about darts or hive ships. They assume they will face a limited number of soldiers on the ground."

"They're going to be lambs to the slaughter. It's an Earth expression," he added in response to Teyla's confused expression. "Lambs are considered vulnerable animals. And they make good eating."

"And yet these warriors would make formidable adversaries."

"On an individual basis, yeah." They were certainly stealthy and alert, witness their ability to take the team by surprise at the gate. But mono-cultural too, which led to one fighting style, a major flaw in the Pegasus Galaxy. John thought of a TV show he couldn't quite remember - _Kung Fu_ or something similar, he supposed – where the arrogant white guy who could box was creamed by a smaller Asian martial artist. These warriors were like that white guy; overconfidence in their own skills and lack of awareness were their biggest flaws.

"Can we go now?" Rodney hissed, at least keeping his voice low. "So bored here."

"No. Shut up."

"These people have nothing we need."

"They might have fruit. Veggies." He gave Rodney a swift poke in the stomach. "You could use some fresh food."

"I like MREs," Rodney hissed back, but he stomped off a few feet, sat down on a tree stump and acted like he was enraptured by the display of native warriors in combat simulations.

John glanced around, searching out Ford. "Did you see Ford leave?" he asked Teyla.

"I saw him entertaining some of the children, but I had not realized he had left."

John touched his comm button. "Ford." There was no response, but that didn't mean panic was necessary. The comm system had acted up before on alien worlds. "Rodney, why don't you see if you can find Ford? I'd like him to stick closer."

"Oh yes, there's a valuable way to use my time, tracking down lieutenants who persist in wasting our chocolate," Rodney muttered, but he stalked back toward the village.

~~~~

Rodney scratched his nose, and contemplated his scanner again, really hoping that something extraordinary would flash on the screen, something that would make this trip not such a waste of time. The villagers carried on with their peasant-type duties, shooting curious glances at him but leaving him alone as he wandered around, looking for Ford and something interesting.

If they ever connected again with Earth and were able to recruit more people for the science team, Rodney decided he would have to add "must like Renaissance Faires" to the list of requirements. So many of these Pegasus Galaxy planets were so very Renaissance Faire feeling, and as a good leader, he ought to make sure people were properly forewarned, in case they had the intelligence to be like him and despise Ren Faires. Sure, some of the food could be fabulous, and encountering aliens who wanted to roast big slabs of meat over open fires in their honor was always fantastic, particularly when the meat was well-marinated and not gamey tasting. But mostly Ren Faires were heat, dust, too little shade, sitting on scratchy bales of hay, and people wearing clothes that looked uncomfortable.

John would probably look good in those clothes. Not the big frilly ruffle thing and the puffy doublet, but a simple brightly colored tunic with a little gold braid over dark leggings, a leather belt with a knife holder wrapped around his narrow waist. There would be a real advantage to those clothes, in terms of easy accessibility, no buttons or zippers to undo, just slide his hand up John's thigh…

Not that these people had quite reached the tunic-legging stage. Their clothes were a mishmash of woven material and animal skins stitched together. Rodney wouldn't have been surprised to see a few leather loincloths. Which actually would probably be another very good look for John.

"Ford!" he called impatiently, both into the air and his earpiece, because they really needed to get this mission done and go home and onto more interesting pursuits, like making up for last night. There was no response and Rodney checked his scanner, still not seeing any atmospheric factors that would create havoc with their communications system. He was going to be seriously pissed if Ford had wandered out of range playing hide-and-seek with wannabe mini-warriors. "Has anyone seen Lieutenant Ford?" He glanced around, but the villagers continued studiously attending to their chores. "He wears clothes like mine. Young guy. Baseball cap."

A warrior walked up to him, and Rodney thought it was the original guy, the moron who thought they were Wraith, but they all looked sorta alike to him, long scraggly hair and leather and critically in need of a bath. "You will come with me," the guy announced.

"I'm looking for Lieutenant Ford. I need to find him."

And then a spear was once again pointed at him, this time angled to touch his chin, and fuck, Rodney hated this kind of thing, even more than Ren Faires. "You will come with me," nasty warrior guy said.

"Yes, fine. I'm just putting this away, okay? It's valuable equipment and I don't want it dropped." Rodney ostentatiously tucked the scanner into a vest pocket. He let his hand continue moving, intending to touch the comm button and give John a big "Help!" before this moron realized what he was doing, if this moron even understood what he'd done after he'd done it because, hello, wireless technology wasn't exactly known here, he'd probably think Rodney was talking to himself.

But before he could finish his action, his arms were caught and jerked painfully behind his back, and Rodney was marched out of the village.

~~~

Kellek clapped his hands, and the warriors stopped their display, standing almost at attention. "You have seen our warriors and what we can do. Not it is time to prove yourselves. We cannot trade with a people who are not worthy of being our allies in the battle against the Wraith."

"Sure." John nodded. "I can appreciate that." A nice sustained round from a P-90 was sure to impress them and maybe they'd get down to serious negotiating for tava beans or whatever. "I'll need a target," he said, patting his rifle.

"You must show your ability to use our weapons."

"Sure." John unslung the P-90 from his shoulder, handing it to Teyla. He'd never trained with spears, but he was good with knives and hand to hand, and working with Teyla on the Athosian sticks had expanded his repertoire significantly. How hard could a spear be? He waited, body loose, hands open for someone to give him a weapon. But then loud insistent warning bells were ringing in his mind, the bells that he should have trusted when they'd been a quiet dinging, because suddenly both of them were surrounded, numerous spears pointing at their chests, and with John's P-90 in one hand, Teyla couldn't use her own effectively.

"We do not trust that a warrior of another people will display all his strengths without incentive."

"Incentive?" John snapped.

"It would not be wise, would it? To reveal all that you are capable of doing to people who are not yet your allies. You must have something of value at stake."

"And that would be?" John asked, but he already knew and cursed himself for letting Ford wander away, for sending Rodney out of his sight. He should have been more proactive when Ford didn't answer, rather than using his absence as an excuse to let the bored Rodney escape.

"The other two of your people." Kellek smiled, a smile that John didn't find warm or charming. "They have been taken to different locations, to the east and to the west. The paths will lead you there. You may have our weapons, the spear and the knife. If each of you is successful at rescuing your friend, you will be welcomed by us as allies. If you are not," Kellek shrugged, "then you will already be dead."

"It doesn't work like that for us, Kellek. You make us risk our lives for no reason, you make us kill some of your people to get our own back, then we've leaving here and never coming back."

Kellek didn't even bat an eye at John's threat. "You will do what you must. But we cannot welcome you without knowing your strengths and weaknesses, in the only way they can be known."

"What happens to Ford and McKay if Teyla and I fail?"

"Then your people are not worthy and they will die."

Unfortunately, John didn't doubt the seriousness of Kellek's threat. The genial smile was gone, leaving a thin-lipped mouth and those Satanic eyebrows. "Let's get this the hell over."

"Major," Teyla said, but it was a question, and he met her eyes as both P-90s were taken from her, and the handguns from both of them. They weren't searched, so John knew he had an extra knife and was pretty sure Teyla did too. "Go to the east. Get Ford or McKay and get home."

"We cannot leave without you, Major."

"And hopefully you won't have to. Report to Elizabeth." Accepting a spear and a knife, he backed away, toward the path out of the meadow, tense with the expectation that he might be attacked at any second. Teyla was doing the same, heading in the opposite direction.

The natives, fortunately, seemed to be willing to give them a head start, as they waited until he hit the tree line, and then half were starting toward him, the other half toward Teyla, and John took off on a run down the path. He hated leaving her, but their superior numbers made winning a fight in the meadow impossible. Divide and conquer was the only way they were going to survive this one.

~~~~

If anyone had asked, Rodney would happily have admitted he was scared, though the fear was rapidly dissolving under misery and crankiness. He was hungry, he was thirsty, his leg muscles hurt from the forced pace to this ramshackle collection of huts, the leather strip binding his hands was chafing his skin, and frankly, he was bored. Being a captive didn't provide a lot of mental stimulation, and whatever was going on here, his role seemed to be helpless victim even though he much preferred being the brilliant scientific savior.

Lying down in the hut, he tried to sleep, figuring a nap would conserve his energy, but the dirt was hard, and his back was getting sore. He shuffled on the ground, trying to find a more comfortable position, wondering if they'd give him a blanket or pillow or anything civilized, since they hadn't been very responsive to his requests for food. He heard a noise, a whisper of movement and a small gasp, so quiet that he would have overlooked it in less trying circumstances. He listened hard, but didn't hear anything else, and finally started to drift off, when the same noise jerked him awake.

Squirming onto his side, he pushed up into a sitting position and finally stood, facing the door. Something was happening out there. He wasn't sure what, but meeting it standing was preferable, though standing with a P-90 in his hands would have been even better.

Then the door flap opened and a man slipped in, and Rodney sighed with relief. Even in the dim light inside the hut, he could recognize John's lean figure as he straightened up, the messy hair making his silhouette taller. "John!" He tried to whisper, but in his nervousness, his voice must have come out louder than he thought, as John rushed across the room and clapped a hand over his mouth, whispering, "Shh," in his ear. Rodney nodded his understanding.

"The guards are taken care of. Head right outside the door and toward the forest. There's a path going east." John whispered into Rodney's ear, his breath warm on Rodney's skin. Rodney nodded and pressed a kiss into John's palm, signaling his understanding. "It should lead you to the Stargate. Don't stop, no matter what."

Rodney jerked away, shaking his head wildly, because this close up, he could see how dreadful John looked, covered with dirt and streaks of blood, his expression hard in that full-out warrior mode he rarely had to use. John anticipated more fighting ahead, and intended to be the one doing it, the one winning the battles. John's body touched his again, warm and comforting. "I'll be right behind you. I need to know I don't have to worry about you, that you're on the move. Okay?" John hissed again in his ear, even as his hands ghosted down the length of Rodney's arms, finding his hands and cutting the strap binding them.

"Don't," Rodney said softly, not sure what he wanted to add. Don't make me leave you? Don't sacrifice yourself for me? Wasn't that what John was supposed to do, be the tough military man protecting his team?

"I will be right behind you. Now move." John's hand pressed on the small of Rodney's back, guiding him toward the door flap. Rodney ducked slightly to fit under the low doorway. He paused as he stepped out, his gaze falling on nasty warrior guy, propped by the tent door. The guy's eyes were sightless, his throat slit, a swath of red blood streaming over his leather vest. Unintended, a small squeak of noise emerged from his throat, and John hissed, "Damn it, Rodney, move!"

Rodney stumbled a little but scampered to follow John's order, averting his eyes when he saw the other guard tucked at the side of the tent in a similar state. He'd complained at these people about food and water and now they were dead.

~~~~

As they fled the collection of huts, the dead bodies and whoever might still be alive, John allowed himself to smile grimly, relishing that he'd gotten halfway through this asinine test, and appreciating the advantage of Rodney’s noisiness and how much it had helped find him. Ford was probably nobly suffering in silence. Name, rank, serial number, not that those would mean anything to these people, and maybe a small whimper of pain if they hurt him really, really badly, which hopefully they hadn't. But no, not Rodney. The scientist had no macho code to uphold. Scooting through the forest, taking down natives one by one, he'd frequently heard Rodney’s voice floating on the wind, keeping him on track. "Hypoglycemic, you cretins. Do you know what that means? It means I need to eat, or you’re going to have to carry my unconscious body around. And don't you dare drag me." Rodney’s loudness had been even better than a life signs detector, because it was uniquely Rodney, and not just a little dot on a screen.

John hoped that Ford hadn't been too quiet, that he'd given Teyla something to help find him besides the uneven and winding path, but he couldn't distract himself with that worry now. He had to trust in his people and focus on getting Rodney to the Stargate.

They fled through the forest, John letting Rodney go first, keeping him in sight. The scientist was noisy, despite his efforts to the contrary. He breathed hard and his feet constantly tripped over twigs, breaking them with loud snaps. If there were any natives on the route back, they'd hear Rodney first. Would they be bright enough to look for his companion before attacking?

The first one wasn't, leaping on Rodney and bringing him to the ground before John could intercede, which ironically made him easier to handle. John's knife was in his back, stabbing deep before he even knew of John's presence. Rodney heaved against the body thrashing on his as John yanked up. The dying native was tossed wildly to the forest floor, and John retrieved his knife from the native's back, blood spurting out as the man gasped.

"Should we – do something?" Rodney asked hesitantly, scrambling to his feet, staring in horror at the dying native as John wiped the blade on the broad green leaves of a nearby bush.

"Kellek made it very clear it's kill or be killed."

Rodney's face was pale as he swallowed, bobbed his head in a nervous, acknowledging nod, and darted back down the trail.

The second one was wiser, letting Rodney pass by him before leaping out at John. Forcing down the instinct to retreat from the man's sudden appearance, John darted forward aggressively, thrusting with his knife. The native jerked away, and they circled each other warily.

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Rodney return and pick up a branch, hovering outside the circle the two of them were making. "Go to the gate," John ordered, never letting his attention waver from the native.

"Like I'd survive without you," Rodney said, almost shrieking, and then he lunged forward, swinging at the native. It was a stupid move, at a poorly planned time, but John had anticipated that Rodney would do something erratic. The native must have underestimated Rodney's nerve because he was taken by surprise, and John was able to get under his guard, his knife sinking between his ribs and into his heart.

"Fuck," Rodney said, as blood splattered both of them, red blotches splashed on Rodney's shirt and added to the collection of stains John had already accumulated. Rodney gave him a hopeless, dazed look, and John took the time to cup Rodney's face with his free hand, and give him a fast, firm kiss.

"Keep moving. We'll make it." He stared hard at Rodney, willing the scientist to believe in him, and Rodney turned and began running. They reached the gate without further intervention, for which John was profoundly thankful, trying hard not to remember how many people he'd already killed, or to wonder how many Teyla had handled. They'd been very lucky so far, and he knew it, and hoped Teyla had had the same luck. John started dialing as soon as they reached the DHD.

"What are you doing? Where are Ford and Teyla?"

"They took Ford prisoner too. Teyla's rescuing him. I want you to go back to Atlantis and let Elizabeth know what's happening."

"You want me to leave? Without you?"

"Elizabeth needs to know we're under attack." The last chevron locked, and silver rushed out of the Stargate, forming the wormhole home.

"I wouldn't be leaving if I were Ford or Teyla. We'd be going to rescue the others." Rodney glared at him, defying John to argue.

"I’m not going to debate tactics with you, Rodney." Damn, were there any circumstances under which the man couldn't be argumentative? John couldn't deal with this now, needing to know that Rodney was safe. He grabbed Rodney's arm, dragging him toward the gate. "Type in your IDC."

Rodney dug his feet into the ground. "You can't ask me to leave without the rest of you."

"Yes, I can! Type in your fucking IDC!"

"I won't!"

John was ready to slug Rodney and type in his own IDC, when he heard Teyla yell, and looked over to see her and Ford emerging from the trees, running hard. "Look!" He pointed and Rodney's head jerked around. John was tempted to slug him and push him through the gate before Rodney realized that Ford and Teyla were likely running because some of the natives were chasing them. The spare knife had been left buried in a body early on, so John didn't have one to give Rodney, who probably couldn't throw one in a straight line even if he did and wouldn't be effective in the fight that might be coming.

"Okay!" Rodney yelled. "I'll go!"

John released his grip on Rodney's arm as the other man rushed past him, hesitating just before the wormhole's silver surface.

"Go!"

Rodney typed in his IDC but then waited a few more seconds, watching Ford and Teyla get closer, before stepping into the wormhole. John breathed a sigh of relief and started toward Ford and Teyla, knife in hand, waiting for the natives to emerge from the forest.

~~~~

Atlantis was nice and clean and normal when Rodney stepped through the gate, his breathing still rough. Elizabeth was walking down the steps toward him. "My God, Rodney, you've got blood on your shirt. What happened? Rodney?"

Rodney waved his hand, not sure what he was trying to say, just needing to stave off Elizabeth's questions for a moment, and turned to face the gate, waiting for the rest of his team to emerge.

Elizabeth came to stand next to him. "Rodney? Are you hurt?"

"Not my blood." Rodney gestured again. No one came through. "They were following me," he said tightly.

"What happened?"

Rodney reached for his earpiece, but it wasn't there, taken when they'd taken his gun because the warriors were moronic but not unobservant. "We need a team to go back. I knew I should have stayed. A gun, I need a gun." He turned to Elizabeth, but she had that irritating 'I'm worried but I need all the facts' look on her face, so he kept turning until he saw one of the Marine guards. And thank God, at least one soldier had a few brain cells to rub together, because he could hear the taller fellow quietly talking on his headset to Bates, reporting the potential need for a rescue team. Satisfied that things were in motion, he turned back to Elizabeth. "Sheppard was at the gate, Teyla and Ford were running toward it, and the natives were using us for Wraith hunting practice or something, I don't know. But if they don't come through soon, then something's gone wrong and we'll need to rescue them from the morons with no technology but lots of big spears."

"Okay, stay calm. Were any of them hurt? Do – "

The silver surface shimmered as Teyla stepped into the gate room. "Rodney, Doctor Weir."

"Where's Sheppard? And Ford?" Rodney couldn't help noticing that Teyla looked as bad as John had, her expression calm but the disarray of her clothes and hair testimony that rescuing Ford hadn't been a walk in the park.

"They have stayed to talk to Kellek, but the Major thought you should be reassured that he does not expect any trouble."

"He doesn't expect any trouble? They were using us for hunting practice!"

"They were attempting to determine if we were worthy allies."

Elizabeth spoke quickly before Rodney could continue monopolizing the questioning. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Lieutenant Ford was not. Major Sheppard did not appear to be."

"Sheppard was fine," Rodney snapped. "At least until he stayed behind to chitchat with the morons with big spears and no brains."

"Their ways may be different than ours, but I believe the Major trusts Kellek to be honorable."

"Honorable? Taking people prisoner – " Rodney was ready to let loose with a serious rant when he was interrupted.

"Miss me?" John asked easily, smiling as he walked into the gate room, followed by Ford, both of them carrying several guns.

"Were you gone?" Rodney responded, trying to hide his relief. He stared greedily at John, seeing the dirt and blood stains, the small rips in his clothes, the messy hair, but most of all the cocky grin that proclaimed everything was fine in John's world, that he had the situation under control. Then Rodney stalked out without waiting for an answer.

~~~

John smiled as Rodney walked out, taking slow deep breaths, pretty sure he was successfully faking everyone out, that the Marines and techs in the gate room thought he was confident, relaxed, having survived yet another horrendous mission, and finding it no big deal to stand in the freaking lost city of Atlantis, with the blood of several different people on his clothes. They needed to see him this way.

"I gather the mission didn't go to plan," Elizabeth said.

"Not really, no."

"Rodney didn't seem to think that – Kellek? – would let you go."

John shrugged. "We passed his test. Teyla and Rodney had already left, so he knew reinforcements might show at any minute. I wanted to get our gear back. We're running low on supplies." Yeah, like that was all it was, a few minutes taken to collect their P-90s. Like John hadn't needed the satisfaction of facing Kellek one time, of letting rip on him. Not that John was sure whether he'd made much of an impression on Kellek. People that blindly self-assured of their place and purpose in the universe were…well, blind. Still, he thought the sustained burst of fire that he'd let fly over the warriors' heads had gotten his point across to a few of them. "I think we're taking the rest of the day off," he added.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Elizabeth agreed. "Maybe you should see Carson?"

He glanced down, fully realizing how dreadful he looked. "No, I’m fine. Teyla?"

"I am well too. But a shower would be much appreciated."

"Take care of yourselves then. I'll expect a report tomorrow."

"Thanks." John, Teyla, and Ford walked toward the stairs, heading out of the control room. John caught Ford giving him an odd look, like he wanted to ask something, but didn't know how to say it, and it reminded John of the looks Ford had given him – was it just yesterday morning at breakfast? Jeez, time did fly when you were trying to keep an expedition of people alive in a hostile galaxy.

Maybe it was time to talk to Teyla and Ford, to confirm that what had started between Rodney and him by accident had continued by mutual agreement, because he knew he'd come very close to revealing everything in front of Kellek. It would be better to violate a little of the 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' ridiculousness than surprise Teyla and Ford with a loss of control in the middle of a mission.

~~~

Rodney paced through the halls of Atlantis, acting as if he was going to his lab, but took a right turn, went down another hall and walked straight into John's bedroom. The Major wasn't there, and Rodney sighed, feeling deflated after the anticipation of expecting to see him waiting. He fingered the earpiece, wondering if he should call him. 'Hello. Where are you? Why aren't you in your bedroom, ready to have sex with me?' Because after today, he needed John, needed to see him not deadly, not smirking and looking like a wise-ass, but unguarded and relaxed, the way he looked after they made love.

Being stuck wondering when John was going to return to his room left Rodney a little grouchy. Really, of the two of them, John was the logistics expert. Shouldn't he have initiated a conversation about how they were going to handle arrangements? Rodney wasn't even sure when John went to bed. For all he knew, the Major might have a nightly routine of a five-mile run around Atlantis.

This whole 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell and don't let anyone see anything' nonsense really sucked in Rodney's opinion. In some respects, it was unfortunate that the American military had been the ones to get their hands on the Stargate. How differently might things have gone if a more rational country like Canada had been the ones to open the first wormhole?

But then John walked in, saw Rodney, and in one fluid motion crossed the room while tugging his shirt and earpiece off, pulled Rodney into his arms and started kissing him, and Rodney conceded that perhaps there were some advantages to having American flyboys hanging around, being all brave and heroic and macho. And really sexy.

John's lips separated just enough from Rodney's that he could talk while kissing. "Christ, I want to fuck you. I really, really want to fuck you." Another hard, firm kiss, and then a more hesitant, "If it's okay. If you're ready."

"I don't know," Rodney said dubiously. It wasn't really something he'd thought of, because frankly, he liked the other way, and it hadn't seemed that pleasant when he'd shared John's reactions through the Ancient device. Well…there had been a lot of pleasure, truly an incredible amount of pleasure, but not until after the uncomfortable stretched feeling.

"I'll make it good, I promise." John rubbed the side of his cheek on Rodney's, speaking softly into Rodney's ear. "Look, this isn't that superiority nonsense or I gotta be on top, or anything like that. But I could have lost you today, and I want to know what it's like. I want to feel you, know you like you've known me."

The sincerity of John's request was impossible to deny. Rodney nodded by rubbing his cheek on John's, and began to strip off his clothes, dropping them to the floor. John was doing the same, and their hands wandered back and forth, helping each other, fondling the skin that was revealed, their lips continuing to share long, dizzying kisses until Rodney had to lean against the wall, feeling light-headed.

"Stay there," John commanded with a hard kiss, retreating to the bathroom, emerging a few seconds later with the oil. "Turn around."

"Against the wall?" Rodney complained, even as he turned, resting his front on the metal of the wall. The surfaces and walls of Atlantis always seemed warm and welcoming to his skin, as if the metal had special properties.

Rodney could feel that John was close to him, even though John didn't touch him. "You have the best ass."

"Do I? I thought – "

"You thought what?" John prompted, when Rodney didn't speak more. He stepped forward, so his feet were between Rodney's, the skin of their legs almost touching, and his hands gripped the ass he'd admired, squeezing firmly. "Christ," he muttered reverentially.

"That you thought I was fat." Rodney really hoped that didn't sound completely pathetic.

"Fat?" John's hands were slick with moisture, his fingers sliding into Rodney's crack, spreading the lubricant. "What makes you say that?"

"You said I needed to eat more fresh fruit. And veggies."

"You do," John said absently, and from the dedicated way that his hands were playing with Rodney's ass, Rodney realized that his attention wasn't focused on his words. "You have an atrocious diet. But don't ever lose this." John's hands slid slickly from Rodney's ass to his front, giving him a squeeze on the little flesh around his belly. "Or this. I love this." John's teeth nibbled at the nape of Rodney's neck, along his shoulders, as John's stiff cock rubbed between the cheeks of his ass.

"You do?"

"Oh yeah." John's hands returned to playing with his ass, one of his fingers squirming inside, and there it was, that weird uncomfortable sensation. Rodney forced himself to relax, not to get tense, and oh, oh, oh…there was the second sensation, the really good one, the moment when John's finger brushed on Rodney's prostate, and yeah, he knew this feeling secondhand, but now it was firsthand, it was in his own body, little zingy shivers arcing everywhere, from his ass to his cock and up and down his spine.

"That good?"

"Yeah. Oh, God, yeah. That's good. Really, really good."

"Yeah, babble for me, Rodney." John's tone was smug, but deservedly so, and Rodney couldn't help but obey, a litany of begging, pleading words falling out of his mouth as John worked in another finger and then a third, keeping up the firm, steady touch on his prostate, making the pleasure vastly outweigh any other consideration like dignity.

Then John's hand was gone and Rodney whimpered, wanting the pleasure back, but John's dick was easing in, John's hips making little thrusting lurches. It was uncomfortable again, because John's dick was bigger than his fingers, but then warm, solid flesh slid against his prostate and was this what anal sex was, discomfort constantly overcome by ecstasy? Because ecstasy was what Rodney felt and Rodney was pretty sure he said that several times, though he wasn't sure if any of them were coherent.

It was weird to feel this good sexually without any touch on his cock, and Rodney tried to reach down, to grab himself, but his hands were scrabbling on the metal wall and wouldn't cooperate. But maybe the interaction with the Ancient city was making John partially telepathic, or maybe Rodney had babbled that need along with everything else falling out of his mouth, because John's hand grasped Rodney's cock and oh god…he wasn't sure which one was better, John's hand on his cock, or John's cock in his ass, but the combination of the warm enfolded sensation with the stretched, open fullness was truly amazing.

Then John leaned on him harder, and the side of Rodney's face was forced to the metal wall. But the discomfort of being mashed to the wall didn't matter any longer, because John's other hand had joined the action, moving between Rodney's nipples, pinching and rubbing the sensitive nubs. Rodney gasped breathlessly and thrust back into John's hips, rocking on his cock in a long and sweet gliding rhythm. And damn any discomfort and John's kinkiness in doing it against the wall because this was the best goddamned sensation he'd ever felt in his life and he wanted to feel it every single day. Every single day.

And from the noise John made as they came, half-laugh, half-moan, Rodney thought maybe he'd said that aloud too.

Rodney and John staggered to the bed together, John having enough presence of mind to pull back the blankets before they fell onto the sheets. Rodney was sprawled partially on top of John, and it dimly crossed his mind that his weight might be too heavy. But John wasn't protesting, and Rodney fell asleep before he could ask.

~~~~~

Ford surpassed Sheppard’s expectations. He didn’t just organize a movie night; he planned a dance and invited the Athosians. A few people did the official "date" thing, but most showed up solo in their best civilian clothes. Ford had commandeered the largest room and created a "beyond the sea" look…and who knew that military webbing could so resemble fishnets?

John's options for civilian clothes were limited, so he wore a white button down shirt and khaki trousers, which seemed to be fairly standard fare, though more casual than Elizabeth's black pants suit. He took Elizabeth’s hand as the music started. “I think we’re probably supposed to kick this off,” he said, leading her into the middle of the floor.

“I always wanted to be homecoming queen. I should have asked Ford to find me a tiara.” Elizabeth said lightly, letting John swing her into his arms as Bobby Darin began crooning 'Beyond the Sea.'

She fit well in his hold and was light on her feet, following his lead perfectly. John didn’t try anything complicated, a little shuffling waltz step that he figured the Athosians could copy without problems, until Elizabeth's grace reminded him that as a diplomat, she'd probably attended a lot of formal parties, so he pushed her away, pulled her back and twirled her around, trying a few more elaborate steps. She matched his every move, responsive to his guiding touch. As they danced, he saw Rodney across the room, wearing a blue shirt that matched his eyes and tan trousers, drinking a glass of punch and vociferously arguing something with Radek, apparently patently ignoring the dancing.

Halfway through the song, Ford escorted Teyla out, and then a couple of the scientists joined in. The evening progressed well, a nice mix of dancers and people chitchatting along the walls. Ford must have coaxed the scientists into coughing up their complete collection of music, because he’d compiled a wide range of songs from several decades, all of them with a good beat for dancing in that partial waltz, partial disco, partial shuffling in place that most people untrained in dancing tended to do.

John circulated the room, trying to dance at least once with all the women. Girls at his high school had always seemed to complain about the lack of male dancers, so he decided to do his bit for morale. Since the ratio of men to women was definitely skewed in Atlantis, he didn't think there'd be much of a problem with any woman being a wallflower if she didn't want to be, but better safe than sorry. Besides, he liked to dance, and at least the obligation of being the military commander meant he didn't need to do the bullshit nonsense of pretending he was too macho.

He escorted Teyla out as 'Walking On Sunshine' started up, and counting on her athletic skill, pushed the edge a bit, flipping her up and over his arm. What he hadn’t expected was that she didn't know men were supposed to keep their feet on the ground, until he found himself similarly flipped. He was startled for a second, but then tucked his legs together and went with it, tightening his stomach muscles to help pull him along. Then spun and twirled and then he did another one, bending at the waist and rolling her over his back, and she did the same. They kept it energetic, Teyla a perfect match for him, excellent at picking up and copying his every move, until he realized that the rest of the dance floor had stopped and were watching them. The music ended with a flourish, so he and Teyla gave a bow – John noting that he must remember to tell her women were supposed to curtsey if the highly unlikely event that they ever did this again – and got off the floor to take a breather.

From there, things got a bit wild as Radek dragged a couple of men out and started some sort of line dance with squats and jumps that John sincerely doubted was truly Czech, but just Radek making up nonsense to toy with everyone, and which the Athosians and the soldiers definitely did better than the scientists. Except surprisingly, Radek did it best of all. Who knew such a little guy would have such strong thigh muscles?

He tried to keep an eye on Rodney, surprised to see that the scientist didn’t remain a wallflower, but danced with several women, mostly from his lab, and Elizabeth. Rodney must have been forced into lessons as a child; he did a very nice albeit conventional box step, but his sense of rhythm was excellent, and he looked shockingly good when he dipped Elizabeth over his arm. John ignored the insane urge to claim Rodney for a number…because dancing with the lead scientist in front of the entire community would make adhering to 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' rather hard.

~~~

Rodney watched John all night. He tried not to, and he tried really hard to not make it obvious, but he knew each and every time the Major led a new woman out to the floor. Elizabeth, a soldier, a scientist, an Athosian, another scientist, Teyla, a soldier… It was obvious what John was doing, the systematic and equal attention to each woman, a nice little morale booster to make sure everyone danced with the military commander.

Everyone, of course, except men like Rodney, because even though they were in a different galaxy, John was still an American military soldier. Rodney tried to follow John’s example, though he concentrated on his own staff. After all, he figured none of the soldiers or Athosians were going to sulk if they didn’t get to dance with him. Actually, probably his own staff wouldn't either, but at least they wouldn't risk his displeasure by refusing. He caught John glancing at him once or twice, and wondered if he appreciated that Rodney was making the effort to be nice. He took Elizabeth out one time, but after John and Teyla did wild athletics to some 80s pap that had everyone watching and applauding them, he decided to give his own team member a miss. Teyla didn’t seem to lack for partners anyway, not with her skimpy top and hip-hugging short skirt displaying her perfect abdominal muscles.

The pretense got to him finally, and he slipped out to the balcony, leaning against the railing, watching the dancers, and sipping some of the fruit punch the Athosians had brought, and that they insisted contained no citrus, though considering Radek’s exhibition, he did have to wonder if someone had spiked it with alcohol. Really incredibly potent alcohol. He positioned himself so that one of the columns would block him from being too noticeable, but John found him there anyway.

"Hi." John leaned on the column, facing Rodney, out of sight of the rest of the people.

"Major."

"I thought we'd advanced to John now."

Rodney shrugged. While he could tell most everyone was enjoying the evening, it had been a long few hours. He was tired, his feet were beginning to hurt, and he was beginning to remember why he'd always hated the enforced socializing of work-related parties, whether they sprang from an academic, office or military setting.

"You look like you're having some deep thoughts, Doctor."

"I was thinking about you actually."

"Not very deep, then."

"I was attempting to reconcile the two halves of the equation, but it keeps coming up unbalanced."

"Which equation is that?"

"The equation of you." The moons and stars gave Rodney plenty of light to see John’s raised eyebrows, questioning Rodney’s comment. "We have on one hand, John Sheppard, the easy-going Major adored by everyone in Atlantis, the charming commander who dances with all the ladies, the pilot who looks like he should be surfing."

"Well, that's flattering. Not true, but flattering. And the other hand?"

Rodney eyed John, noting the sudden tenseness. "What is wrong with you? What are you expecting me to say?"

John glanced away, then back at Rodney, and his arms twitched as if wanted to cross them in front of his chest, but he didn’t. "Something about slitting throats, I would imagine."

"Oh, jeez…the defender. The person who always protects his people. That's all I was going to say. Sometimes you act like you're a complete goof, but you always do what you need to do, no matter what it takes."

The tenseness eased out of John's muscles, and he grinned. "A complete goof? You'll make my head spin with all this flattery."

"You really thought I was going to accuse you of killing babies or something, didn't you?"

Then Rodney wished he hadn't been so blunt, because John's grin disappeared. "People have said some harsh things about my choice of profession," John said quietly, which made Rodney wonder about the past John never mentioned.

"Those people didn't deserve to have their culture fucked up by the Wraith, but they made conscious decisions to take captives and it's their responsibility for what happened," Rodney said, realizing he was speaking too vehemently. He didn't want to attract attention to them by raising his voice. "I…admire that you can do what you did." That honesty felt awkward and uncomfortable, because Rodney wasn't used to admitting his appreciation of other people, but he'd clearly hit a nerve that he hadn't realized John had, and wanted to ease the pain.

"I don't leave men behind." John grabbed Rodney’s hand, and pulled him to him, and into his arms. "Particularly not my lover."

John kissed him and oh god…it was truly sinful that someone should be such a good kisser. John knew how to use his lips and teeth and tongue to make Rodney feel like he was being simultaneously savored and devoured. Slipping his hands between the column and John's body, Rodney cupped John's firm, tight butt and kissed him back. All those women might have been able to dance with John in public view, but Rodney was the one with him on the balcony, and that knowledge thrilled him.

Almost as if he read Rodney's mind, John whispered roughly, "I may not be able to dance with you, but I need you in my bed tonight. Okay?"

"Your bed? Who said it's going to be your bed?"

"Fine, your bed. You did say I was easy-going."

Rodney stepped back, pushing John toward the door. "I think you have a few more dances to go yet. I'll be in my room when you're through."

John hesitated, as if he wanted to press the issue, but he went. After that, watching John’s grace and charm with the women was easier. Because for some reason that seemed even more improbable than the existence of space travel through a wormhole to another galaxy, John Sheppard was his.

~~~~

The evening had been fantastic, and John knew the good effect on morale would linger for days, but he had felt torn between delight and the dictates of duty. Holding Miko's tiny body to him for the last dance, wondering at Ford's sense of irony as Louis Armstrong sang about a wonderful world, had felt too much like a lie. Needing to be with Rodney, John's pace increased almost to a jog until he reached Rodney's room and walked in unannounced. The other man was typing at his laptop, still dressed in the clothes he'd worn to the dance. John dimmed the lights and grabbed Rodney's hand, tugging him to stand.

First hitting save, Rodney let himself be pulled into John's arms, resting his hands on the small of John's back, laying his head on John's shoulder. John's hands landed in the same place on his back, his head tucked on Rodney's shoulder, and they drifted aimlessly.

"Are we dancing to anything in particular?" Rodney finally asked.

"Something sweet and slow," John replied. He'd have to ask Ford to load all the music to his laptop so he and Rodney could dance properly some other evening. After a while, he noted, "You took dance lessons."

"Jeannie wanted to, so Mom made me join her. It's been years."

"You looked good."

"Not as good as you."

John shrugged uncomfortably, holding tighter to Rodney, turning his head to rub it against Rodney's.

Inconsequentially, Rodney added, "My father used to laugh when Jeannie badgered me into practicing at home. I hated that. I stopped as soon as Mom let me."

"Parents can be hell," John sympathized.

"Yours too?"

"Yeah, sometimes." Unwilling to end the evening by dwelling on their respective childhoods, John stopped swaying, taking Rodney's face in his hands, giving him a long, lazy kiss, wishing that they could have shared this kiss on the dance floor. "Thank you for what you said on the balcony. So I guess you admit I'm a superior officer?"

That second line earned John the look he expected, the impatience snapping in Rodney's blue eyes, and John grinned cockily, waiting to see how Rodney would react to the gauntlet. To his surprise, he found himself twirled around and flung down on the bed. He landed on his back with an, "Oomph!" Rodney was instantly on top of him, the scientist's hands grabbing his and holding them down, one on each side of his head.

"You want superior? I can show you superior."

"Then show me," John taunted before Rodney's lips fastened on his in a demanding kiss. John just moaned and kissed him back, happy to let Rodney show him anything he wanted, and it occurred to him that evenings with Rodney were the best part of being stranded in another galaxy.

~ the end ~


End file.
